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ELEMENTS 


M  O  R  A  I,  I  T  Y, 


FOR  THE 


USE  OF  CnfLDREN; 


WITH  AN 


INTRODUCTORY  ADRESS  TO  PARENTS. 


 ^"^mipm^JW^^W^mT^  

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN    OF  THE 

Rev.    C.    G.    S  A  L  Z  M  A  N  N. 


THE     THIRD     AMERICAN  EDITION. 


WILMINGTON: 
Printed  by  JOSEPH  JOHNSON 
Market-street  Opposite  the  B^nk. 


A    D   V   E   R   T  I  S   £   M   E  N  t> 


THIS  Utih  JVorJi  fell  acciddnfally  Into  my  hanfs^ 
•when  I  begun  to  learn  Qerrnan^  and^  merely  as 
ar.  cxercifi  in  fiat  language-  I  attempted)  to  tranflate 
it  ;  but^  as  I  proceeded^   I  was  pleafea  to  find  that 
chance  had  throne  in  rr^y  way  a  very  rational  book^  a?id 
that  the  writer  coincided  with  me  in  opinion  refpe^ing 
the  method  which  ought  to  be  piirfued  to  form  the  heart 
and  temper^  or^  in  otl^sr  words ^  to  inculcate  the  firfl 
principles  of  morality,    I  do  ncty  however^  mean  to  nfb- 
§r  thefe  volumes  in  by  introdu^ory  eulogiums^  for  I 
have   always  defpifed  t h of e prefatory  puffs  direct;  yety 
as  I  equally  defpife  falfe  humility  ,fhail  /imply  fay  ^  that 
if  I  had  not  thoright  it  m.  very  ufcful  producliofi'  I  fhould 
not  have  gone  on  with  the  tranjlation. 

I  term  it  a  tranflation^  though  I  do  7:ot  pretend  to  af 
fert  thai  it  is  a  literal  one:  on  the  contrary^  befide  mak- 
ing  it  an  Englifiy  pr^ry.,  I  have  7nade  fome  additions^ 
and  altered  many  parts  of  it^  not  only  to  give  it  the  fpi- 
rit  of  an  original^  but  to  avoid  introducing  any  German 
cufiouis^  or  heal  opinioris.  My  reafon  for  naturalizing 
it  mufi  be  obvious — /  did  not  wifh  ti^  puzzle  children  by 
p'Anting  out  modifications  of  manners^  when  the  grand 
principles  of  morality  were  to  be  fixed  on  a  hoard  bafi.s. 
Though  I  have  net  copied^  I  have  endeavoured  to  imi- 
tate^ the  JhnpHcity  of  ftyle  and  manners  which  I  admir- 
ed  in  the  origionaL  If  it  had  been  a  French  work^  I 
Jhould probably  have  had  to  curtail  many  fmooth  compli- 
ments^  that  I  might  not  have  led  my  little  readers  to  the 
very  verge  of  fclfehood;  but  it  did  not  appear  to  me  ne- 
c^U^'^ry  tn  retrench  the  artlefs  dictates  ofajfedlion^  when 


(  ) 

/  -wijhed  to  'inJiyiU'ite  a  iaQ  for  domeflic  fleajures  mio 
the  hearts  of  hrjh  f-aj-ents  ajid  chiidre?i. 

Jll  the  flclures  are  d?-i.rjjn  from  re^d  life^  and  that  I 
highly  appro ue  of  this  mcih^d^  rry  havhig  '■ojvitten  a  book 
on  the  fume  pian-''  ^  is  ih^  flror.gej?  proof.  I  have  here 
aif  'o  iriferted  a  little  tcde  to  lead  children  to  confidcr  the 
fndians  as  theu  brothers,  hecaufe  the  omljfion  of  this 
fubjedl  appeared  to  he  a  chafm  hi  a  -well  dlgejled fyjlem^ 

MA.RY  WOLLSTONECRAFT. 


*  In  titled,  Original  Stories  from  real  Life, 


INTPc  OD  UC  T  ORY  ADDRESS. 


T  O 


PARENTS. 


THE  clefign  of  this  Book  is  to  give  bu'tli  to  what- 
v/e  call  a  Good  Disposition  in  children: 
generally  as.  the  worJ  is  uled,  it  appear-:  to  me  necelTa- 
ry  toafcertain  its  real  meaning.  A  good  difporitionis, 
in  my  opinion,  a fuperlor  degree  of  knowledge  :  knovv  - 
ledge  coniifts  in  being  acqiuiinted  with  the  charaCc- 
eriltics  of  things  :  but  a  good  difpofition is  nob  cov.^.ned 
to  a  bare  acquaintance  with  their  diiting;;i-uing  cbnr- 
a'flers  ;  it  extends  to  their  intriniic  vali  e,  ar.d  the 
efecis  produced  by  them,  to  which. affedtion  or  averfioa 
is,  at  all  times,  neceilary  attached. 

For  example,  give  a  child,  of  five  years  old,  two' 
round  yellow  pieces  marked  with  fome  imprefiion,  the 
one  a  guinea,  the  other  a  brafs  coimter  ;  fhew  hini  the 
difference  between  them  ;  tell  him  that  the  former  is 
ofaiclear,  the  latter  of  a  deep  yellov/  ;  that  one  has  a 
fine  head,  the  other  a  wild  uninformed  countenance 
ftamped  on  it  ;  that  one  is  lighter  th:Mi  the  or'^^  r  :  ih:-i 
child  has  then  acquired  a  knowledge  of  both  ^  pieces, 
which  may  be  termed  juil.  But  afterw  ards  only  maks 
him  compreherid  the  value  of  the  guinea — tell  him  ho  w^ 
many  raliins  and  toys  he  can  purchafe  with  it  •  you 
have  determined  his  difpolition  ;  he  not  only  knows  the 
guinea,  but  he  loves  it. 

Teach  him  that  envy  is  the  vexation  which  is  felt 
at  feenig  the  happinefs  of  others,  you  will  have  given 
him  a  juit  idea  of  it;  but  fnew  him  its  dreadful  ef- 
feds^       the  example  of  Hannah^  in  chap.  29^  v/Iio 
A3 


(    vi  ) 


was  fc  tormented  by  this  corroding-  paifion,  a-t  her 
filler's  v/edciing.  tha'c  fhc  could  neither  eat,  drink, 
nor  lle.:p,  and  was  fo  far  carried  away  by  it,  as  to 
f-nibiccer  lier  innocent  filler's  pleafure  :  this  reprc- 
ieiUation  has  dectruiined  the  ciiiid's  diipofition — he 
v/ill  hale  envy. 

An  objecllon  now  naturally  occurs  to  me  ;  how 
happens  i:  tiien  txiat  children  remain  indifferent,  whea 
the  cliariicleriilics  of  envy  are  pointed  out  to  theui  ; 
a'ulfeei  a  de?;ree  of  abhorence,  v/hen  they  fee  a  pidure 
of  i:3  eiiect  ?  The  anfwer  to  this  objection  is  very 
fiinple  ;  we  love  what  affords  us  pleafure,  and  hate 
what  gives  iis  uneafnefs. 

As  long  therefore  as  I  only  kiiov/  a  thing  by  certain 
diilincl:  characlers,  I  remain  indiiferent  to  it  ;  but  as 
foon  as  I  am  perfuaded  that  it  will  afford  me  pleafiu'e 
or  pain,  I  deiire  to  hate  it.  Suppofe,  for  inflmce,  that 
my  ibn  had  never  leen  any  grapes  or  winter  cherries  ; 
I  wKh  to  make  them  known  to  him,  and  defcnbe  in 
^vhat  rcfpect  chcy  clLiFcr  from  each  other  fo  clearly^ 
thac  he  can  deterinlnc  tlic  fpecies  of  plant  to  which 
they  belong;  I  might  then,  indee:!,  fay,  that  he  had 
a  juft  conce[:tion  oi"  uoch  ;  but  would  it  make  him  love 
one  better  than  the  other  ?  However,  bring  him  fome 
winter  cherries  and  green  grapes  ;  and  which  do  yon 
think  his  iucUnation  wordd  lead  him  to  at  the  fight  of 
tiiein  ?  ccriair.'y  to  tl'.e  cherries,  attracted  by  the  red 
colour;  b  It  let  iif.a  raile  both,  and  he  will,  probably, 
loofi  akc-  ,  andafivlbr  the  grapes. 

Toe:!  I!  .  -  .  i  pofuion  liill  fcrcher,  and  taking  it,, 
for  gra'itcci  ':h;it  lie  had  the  Jiextday  a  violent  tooth- 
ach,  wiien  tii  3  grapes  and  cherries  are  again  brought 
to  libn,  and  he  is  .!;U:rod  rhat  the  former  wiU  cool  his 
tooth,  and  occaiion  a  very  difagreeabie  fenfation,  and 
that  the  lactcr,  as  they  are  often  prepared,  may,  per- 
haps, foften  the  pain. —  •tVhich  will  he  nov/  prefer  ? 
Doubtiefs  the  cherries.  By  this  method  it  appears, 
that  we  may  direcl  the  inclination  of  a  child  which 
way  we  wilh,  if  we  only  know  how  to  make  him 
nghtly  comprehend  the  pleiifure  or  pain  which  certiist 
things  will  procure  him. 


(    vii  > 


What  has  been  faid  of  grapes  and  cherries,  may  alfo 
be  applied  to  vice  and  folly,  to  the  love  diue  to  God, 
our  fellow-creatures,  and  ourfelves.  If  the  love  of 
God  is  repreieiued  as  a  defire  to  do  his  will,  and  vice 
as  a  departure  from  his  law,  they  may  underiiaud  the 
meaning  of  both  ;  but  it  an  idea  be  not  guven  theai  of 
the  ve:.ation  which  is  inieparable  from  the  latier,  and 
the  pleafure  which  refults  from  the  former,  they  will 
remain  as  indirrerent  as  the  chad  was  to  the  fruit, 
which  he  only  knew  by  defcription.  This  is  the  rea- 
fon,  1  believe,  why  many  children,  who  have  a  nuin- 
^her  of  fine  maxims  by  roce,  Itill  neglect  to  pradife  the 
virtues  they  can  fo  v^ell  defcribe  ;  bi  t  when  experi- 
ence has  taught  them,  they  will  continue  to  prcier 
that  manner  of  ac^ting  from  which  they  expcd  the 
iiiolt  agreeable  ienfations* 

Befides,  if  I  have  rightly  obferved,  pleafure  and 
uneafmefs  are  feelings,  and  I  conclude  from  this,  thai: 
dehre  or  averlion  increafes,  in  proportion  as  the  un- 
ealinefs  or  pleafure  attached  to  a  thing  is  forcibly 
felt. 

If,  for  exatnple,  to  make  a  child  have  an  averliou 
for  idlenefs,  I  fay  to  him,  ifilenefs,  my  dear  chiid^ 
is  a  vice:  it  makes  a  man  difcontenteci,  itjiires  his 
Keairh,  and  rinnsliis  circumlfances.  This  ddeourie,' 
I  believe,  would  not  have  much  efied  ;  for  the  child 
cannot  form  a  right  idea  of  difcontent,  heakh,  or  cir- 
cimiitances  :  but  if  I  lay  to  him,  there  was  once  a  far- 
mer, named  Brown,  v/ho  was  a  very  idle  man,  ?.jd 
defcribe  him,  as  he  is  drawn  in  chap.  i6,  I  Inall  cer-- 
tainly  give  birth  to  a  v/iih,  at  leait,  not  to  be  idle  ; 
for  his  imaginati.on  reprelenting  idlenefs  in  a  lively 
manner,  he  will  feel  the  unealinefs  infeparable  from 
it. 

After  this  explanation,  I  hope  my  defign  will  be 
tmderitojd,  when  I  fay,  that  i  am  at  giviug  bn'tn  to 
a  good  difpoficion  ;  I  have  therefore,  in  little  tales, 
equally  marked  the  value  and  eifeds  of  things,  the 
knowledge  of  which  is  the  moil  neceifary  for  children  ; 
and  endeavoured  fo  to  addrefs  them  to  their  fei^ifes^' 


(  viii  ) 


titat  whilft  they  ftnke  the  imagination,  they  mafy  b« 
felt  by  reafoii. 

Some  people  may  imagine  that  I  have  overlooked  a 
few  iiibiects.  The  omlllion  did  not  anie  from  forget- 
fidneiV.  I  had  a  falficient  reafon  for  omitting  them. 
I  ha\  e  not,  for  example,  inferred  any  tale  to  repreient 
the  nreiuhiefs  of  magilb'aces,  becanie  children  are  not 
in  any  imaiediate  connexion  wirh  the-n,  and  durnig 
tlieir  .infancy  OL.ght  to  coidivier  their  p.irents  and 
fchoohnaiicrs  in  Lhac  iight.  In  liie  eouri'e  of  che  book 
I  have,  howe  .  er,  I  hope,  treated  all  the  moral  fub-- 
jecb  with  winch  children  ought  to  be  acquanited. 

■* ^^^^-^  i< ^ 

Parents  and  teachers,  I  now  prefent  this  book  to- 
you,  earnc!liy  wilhing  tliat  it  may  hav^e  a  proper  effeft. 
on  your  children,  and  that  the  pernfal  of  it  may  make 
them  more  obedient,  coinplaifant,  induOrious,  patient^ 
&c.  Bat  I  m.i'ii  fay  a  few  words  to  yon  concerning 
the  rij^^ht  ufe  of  it.  I  do  not  think  that  it  will  have 
m-uh  eirtcl,  if  yon  give  it  to  tliem  to  read  juif  as  they 
pieafe  ;  for  they  wilJ  natnraiiy  be  fo  eager  to  come  to 
the  end  of  the  tales,  that  the  truths  which  they  con- 
tain woi.ld  be  palfed  flightly  over  ;  they  will  fuck  oiF 
the  fugar,  and  leave  ihe  medxlne  which  it  concealed, 
behind.  Tlie  hally  reading  of  fo  many  good  Icffons 
mijft  have  mrcli  the  lame  effect  as  thole  dry  precepts 
vvhicli  many  p.nenis  have  a  cuhom  of  continually  re- 
pearing — none  at  all.  Vv  iic  ''.  fo  mi.ch  advice,  is  given 
iii  a  breath,  and  men  are  toiti  a: once  what  they  fiiould,. 
Qud  what  tliey  ihouid  not  do,  they,  in  general,  do< 
no  dung. 

I  v^oald  ^hcref(^^e  ndvife  yon  to  relate  them  your- 
feives,  bi;t  not  for  an  ho'n'  t(^gether,  in  the  could  tone 
of  inftn.iCLion,  or  yom*  crouble  and  mine  will  be  ioff. 
Rather  take advani:^ of  an  inieMpeded  moment,  after 
din'ier,  diiriisg  a  wahk,  or  when  the  children  them- 
felves  beg  you  to  cell  them  fomething-;  nay,  after  yoir 
have  begun  che  tale,  fometimes  break  oU  fnddenly  5 


(  «  ) 


*they  will  intreat  yon  to  go  on,  but  you  mnft  not  b* 
prevailed  on  ;  and,  merely  to  try  their  patience,  tell 
them  that  if  they  behave  well,  the  following  day  you 
will  continue  the  relation. 

In  this  manner  their  defire  to  hear  the  tales  will  be 
kept  aii\  e,  and  the  relations  will  appear  to  them  to  be 
a  reward,  which  is  always  more  pleaiing  to  children 
than  initriidion.  The  tales  mull  be  told  with  warmth 
and  interert,  or  they  will  have  little  erfe^t ;  try  td 
make  them  have  the  vivacity  of  plays,  by  afTimiing 
the  voicp  and  manner  of  the  different  perions  who- are 
.  mentioned. 

It  would  be  ufeful  when  children  have  committect 
!  fome  fault,  to  fhew  them  the  hiliory  ,  which  repre- 
i  fents  the  bad  coniequences  of  it,  or  the  excellence  of 
1  the  contrary  virtue.    But  this  mult  be  done  with  great 
i  caution,  for  if  the  ftories  be  told  in  a  tonecjf  anger, 
,  they  will  foon  become  difagreable,  and  produce  a  ^ry 
bad  effedt.    Wait  then  till  the  firft  emotion  of  anger 
is  oyer,  and  when  you  are  fufficiently  calm  to  fpeak 
with  coolnefs  of  the  fault  which  the  child  has  commit* 
ted,  point  out  the  tale  moft  applicable,  laying  particu- 
lar  emphalis  on  the  bad  effecT:s  which  naturally  follow, 
not  as  a  punilhment,  but  as  a  confeqilence. 

However,  though  I  am  periuaded  that  the  recital  of 
thefc  tales  in  the  manner  I  have  recommended  would 
be  the  moft  ufeful,  yet  1  am  afraid  that  many  people, 
who  have  not  the  talsnt  of  telling  a  ftory  well,  would 
'  find  the  attempt  very  irkfome,  and  I  adyife  them  to 
purine  another  method. 

Let  the  children  read  the  tales  aloud,  and  after  e- 
very  two  or  three  periods,  alk  them  fome  pertinent 
queftion.  If,  for  inllance.  a  child  is  reading  the  tale, 
in  which  it  is  faid,  that  the  poor  are  neceliary  to  the 
rich,  it  my  then  be  pointed  out  that  health  and  every 
other  bleiiing  of  life  only  arifes  from  good  conduct:, 
and  that  all  men  are  equal,  till  they  didinguilh  them- 
felves  by  fuperior  virtues  or  attainments  :  dwelling 
on  this  circumllance  is  particularly  ufeful,  becaufe 
children  are  apt  to  conilder  themieives  of  tco  muclt 


^Onfeqnence. — This  method  of  making  them  read  "fe 
alio  an  excellent  exercife  to  iiiarpea  their  attention^, 
and  make  them  reject. 

Bi.'t  where  ihall  I  find,  a  Acs  an  affeclionate  mother^ 
a  perfon  who  poiVeiles  fufBcient  abilities  to  inrtrii^l  my 
children  in  this  manner  f — ileipeclable  woman,  iince 
thou  halt  fviincient  tenderneis  and  feofe  to  be  anxious 
about  the  penb-i  to  whom  thou  wifhelt  to  intri^lt  the 
weighty  charge  of  educating  thy  children,  I  approach 
tliee  with  refpet^,  and  with  p-leafure  ofi'er  thee  my  ad- 
yite.  The  propereft  perf^ja  to  ionn  the  characlier  of 
thy  children,  is  thyfeif. 

four  leK  has  i^ndeniably  uenJernefs  than  o-irs  5 
the  female  voice  is,  in  ^ei;;;ra:,  ;TiDre  perfviafivc  a'jd 
•foft,  and  more  eaniy  miiniiates  ufelf  into- the  hearts 
of  chUdren^  They  have  a  greater  aiteition  for  their 
ffjother,  if  fhe  doeb  ;if)t  r^lign  the  ;5?fice^  than  for  any 
ocher  perfon  in  :h2  \v»jr.c;  ,  and  yo'jr  vivacity  arid 
tenderneis  will  eud\:.-r  ^  ri  .0  ^nve  a  utgrce  of  mtereit 
and  familiarity  ti)  t;i  j  'aU".,  vhv  h  a  man  Vv'ho -oncers 
into  ttie  bufy  iceuc'  of  I:f^  vAls.  (tldom  be  able  to  equal. 

To  you  does  the  pieafiu-;;  laik  belong  of  foraiing: 
then*  tempers,  and  giving  chcm  habits  01  vn'tae  ;  for 
as  the  fight  of  your  breaft  is  a  hint  to  yoi:,  that  you 
were  diitnied  to  lackle  yoo.r  chharen,  fo  is  cne  con* 
fcio-ifaefs  of  your  abihties,  and  the  doineilic  ties^ 
Which  fo  firraiy  attach  yoar  children  to  yon,  hints 
from  God,  that  the  hrit  foraiation  of  their  charader' 
belongs  to  you. 

If  you  have  fufHcient  refohitlon  to  perfevere,  you 
will  be  amply  recompenfed  for  the  trouble  this  em- 
ployment gives  you,  and  it  will  become,  atter  you 
have  acquired  a  tafte  for  yoar  duty,  your  moft  agree- 
able relaxation.  The  fociety  of  your  children,  which 
was,  perhaps,  fometimes  a  little  troublefome  to  you, 
Will  foon,  vvi-ien  you  are  anxious  to  improve  them,  be.- 
come  yom-  deareil  enjoyment.  You  v^iil  drink  deeply 
of  that  inexpreihbly  fweet  pleafure,  maternal  intima^ 
cy,  a  cordial  of  which  fo  many  mothers  only  tafte  a 
drop. 


Your  blooming,  obedient,  adive  da^ighters  •  youp 
fobuft  fons,  full  of  honeity  and  goodnefs  of  heart, 
will  procure  you  more  relpeft  than  the  uiort  coltly  or- 
naments ;  and  when  you  walk  in  their  company  in  tht 
meadows,  you  will  fee  them  free  from  rt:ie  prejudices, 
faults,  and  cares,  which  in  the  houies  of  yoi.r  ueigh- 
"boursfeed  pale  difcoritent  and  marrow-confuming  grief; 
.you  will  find  in  every  word  the  ^xprcllion  of  inno- 
cence, good  fenfe,  and  contentment ; — then  recoiled^ 
that  you  have  laid  the  foundation  oi  ail  this.  What 
a  thought  1  would  yoa  give  it  v:p  for  ail  the  pleafures 
in  the  world  ? 

But  if  through  particular  circuml\ances  you  are  pre- 
vented from  ini\ru<fting  your  children  yoiurfelf,  I  will 
give  you  fome  further  advice  ;  fearch  for  a  young  man 
of  found  underftanding  and  irreproachable  morals,  who 
lias  prefence  of  mind,  who  on  ohferving  a  fine  moon- 
light fcene,  is  pleafed  without  extafy  ;  who  takes  a 
part  in  the  fuiFerings  of  his  fellow-creatures,  but  at 
I  the  fight  of  their  mifery  does  not  inflantly  burft  into 
1  tears  ;  who  will  not  v/rinkie  his  brow  when  the  chil- 
!  dren  play,  but  good-h-.rmowredly  take  a  part  in  ail 
iheir  diverfions,  and  make  their  very  toys  inftrud 
them. 

When  you  have  found  this  man,  confide  in  him, 
and  be  not  very  anxious  to  know  whether  he  is  ac- 
quainted with  Latin  or  Greek  ;  but  let  them  relate 
everyday  to  your  childnen  Ibme  little  tale,  and  you  will 
he  aftonilhed  at  the  effed  it  will  produce. 
"  But  it  is  from  the  narare  of  things,  and  not  becaufe 
I  have  written  this  book,  that  1  expedit  will  do  good; 
for  I  cannot  help  tliinking  chat  it  has  advantages  which 
the  generality  of  books  deftined  for  children  have  not. 
If  I  .d.o  not  deceive  myfelf,  it  is  calculated  to  catch 
jcheir  attention,  and  fix  found  principles  in  their  hearts. 
A  tone  of  command,  which  always  gives  to  any  thing 
^ood  a  difagreeable  form,  and  to  mifchievous  tricks  a 
I  certain  charm,  is  here  avoided,  becaufe  even  a  good 
I  4<^ion,  which  would,  perhaps,  be  done  with  pleaiure^ 
t  tecoraes  irkfome  as  foon  as  it  is  commanded. 


Buy  a  boy  a  top,  fliew  him  how  he  may  \\{e  it,  and 
you  may  fee  with  what  pleafure  he  will  whip  it.  But 
command  him  to  do  it;  tell  him  he  mult  whip  it  an 
hour  every  day,  and  he  will  find  an  hundred  pretences 
to  avoid  the  employment. 

Place  in  a  room  a  bottle  of  wine  and  another  of  wa«» 
ter,  and  tell  the  boy  that  water  is  very  wholefome^ 
and  wine  very  hurtful  to  children.  If  he  have  not 
already  been  accuftomcd  to  wine,  if  the  praifes  of 
fome  grown  up  people  have  not  excited  a  delire  to 
drink  it,  he  will  not  have  any  inclination  to  tafte  the 
wine  ;  but  if  in  a  tone  of  command  he  is  told  that  he 
mu{\  not  drink  it,  he  will  inftantly  long  for  it,  and  as 
loon  as  he  is  alone  begin  to  fip  it. 

Laws  may  indeed  engage  men  to  do  good  and  to  a- 
void  ^vil,  with  refped:  to  exterior  a£l's  ;  but  they  will 
never  make  them  love  virtue,  or  hate  vice.  On  that 
account,  in  this  little  book,  I  tried  to  avoid  every 
thing  v/hich  appears  like  laws  or  commands.  It  does 
not  fay  to  children,  you  mull  not  be  extravagant ; 
love  your  parents,  &c.  but  it  makes  them  forcibly  feel 
the  bad  confequences  of  extravagance,  the  happinefs 
of  having  parents;  and  this  convidion  v/ill  lead  them 
to  hate  prodigality,  and  love  their  parents. 

Though  this  book  does  not  fpeak  of  Jefus  Chrift;  it 
neverthelefs  contains  the  holy  dodrines  which  he  came, 
to  promulgate  ;  and  one  of  his  principal  employments, 
when  amongft  us,  feems  to  have  been  to  redeem  us 
from  the  law.  By  the  precepts  which  he  has  given  to 
nien,  he  wiflied  to  lead  them  to  virtue,  and  to  avoid 
vice,  not  becaufe  he  has  commanded  the  former,  and 
forbidden  the  latter ;  but  becaufe  they  are  perfuaded 
that  there  is  an  elTential  difference  between  them,  one . 
being  conducive,  and  the  other  injurious  to  our  hap-' 
pinefs :  confequently  that  the  one  ought  to  be  loved, 
and  the  other  hated. 

For  this  reafon,  in  many  paffagesof  the  holy  fcrip-f 
tures,  I  fuppofe  the  word  faith  only  to  mean  a  convic- 
tion that  one  action  is  good,  and  another  hurtful ;  and 
whea  the  apoftle  fays,  that  whatever  does  not  proceed 


from  faidi  is  finful  ;  he  fays  nothing  more,  in  my  opl 
nion,  than  fimpiy  this,  that  whatever  is  not  done 
through  conviftiou  is  fuiful  :  again,  when  it  is  avert- 
ed that  faith  only  gives  merit  to  our  aftlons  before 
God,  this  is  merely  faying,  as  it  api^ears  to  me,  thac 
our  adions  only  pleale  God,  -n  hen  we  do  not  do  thera 
becaufe  they  were  commanded,  but  through  a  convic- 
tion that  they  are  good,  and  conformable  to  his  vvife 
deiigns. 

When  children  have  been  fufiiciently  inftructed  in. 
the  principles  contained  in  this  book,  yon  may  fpeak 
to  them  of  Jefus  Chril\,  of  his  perfon,  his  doctrines^ 
and  his  death.  You  have  now  prepared  the  way  to 
their  hearts — the  vallies  are  exalt-ed — the  mountains 
laid  low — and  that  which  was  crooked  made  ftraight  ; 
that  is  to  fay,  thofe  prejudices  and  bad  habits,  whick 
create  a  rep.ignance  againll  the  doctrines  of  thegofpelj 
have  been  prevented  from  taking  root. 

I  ought  not,  however,  to  forget  a  very  important 
remark— this  book  can  only  lead  children  to  love  good, 
and  hate  €v'\\ ;  but  they  are  llili  far  from  pradifmg  vir- 
tue, and  avoidmo-  vice.  When,  for  inliance,  I  rnakc 
children  comprehend  how  excellent  early  riling  is,  I 
can  make  them  love  it  ;  but  if  I  do  nothing  mdre, 
they  will  certainly  fleep  in  die  morning  till  the  fun 
Ihines  in  their  beds. 

To  j^adice  good  and  avoid  evil,  the  mind  muft  be 
itrengtliened,  and  good  habits  acquired  :  for  without 
them  alFedion  or  averilon  will  not  be  fuflicient  to  pro- 
duce active  virtue.  A  whole  volume  might  be  written 
on  this  fubjed,  but  I  will  relfrain  my  pen,  and  only 
give  th-e  two  following  rules  :  when  I  have  leifure  { 
lhall  probably  treat  the  fubjed  more  at  large. 

Firlt,  conftantly  procure  for  your  children  opportu* 
nities  to  gratify  the  good  inclinations  which  your  nar« 
rations  have  excited.  You  have,  for  example,  excit- 
ed in  your  children  a  defire  to  obey  you  ;  you  inuft^ 
therefore,  in  order  to  lead  them  daily  to  pradife  obe- 
dience, fometimes  command  them  to  do  a  thing  with- 
out telling  them  why^  and  fometimes  to  ^ive  up  wiuc 


(  ) 


dear  to  them,  making  them  always  forcibly  feel  that 
tiey  ad  wilely  when  they  obey  ;  tor  every  virti.re  is 
a  habit,  and  habits  can  only  be  acquired  by  exercife. 

Secondly,  always  judge  and  acl  as  you  wo;  Id  willj 
your  children  to  do;  for  children  ha\  e  more  faith  in 
your  adions  than  in  ycr.;r  words,  bho  .id  one  contra- 
dict the  oilier,  they  will,  inikad  of  creditnig  your 
words,  imitate  yonr  a£tions.  You  may  have  Ihewji 
them  the  deformity  of  angler ;  bnt  if  on  every  triflmg 
occahon  you  fuffer  yobrfelf  to  be  carried  away  by  pai- 
lion,  and  in  your  heat  life  improper  expreiuons  to 
yoi  r  friends  and  fervants,  children  will  not  reaujly  be- 
lieve that  anger  is  fo  very  hateful,  when  their  parents 
are  fubjed  to  it.  Experience  has  convinced  me  that 
children  catch  their  faults  from  their  parents  and  fer*. 
vants  ;  and  in  education  a  good  foundaevoa  is  laid  w%n 
they  are  not  taught  to  do  ill. 

Keceiv^e  now,  refpedabie  parents,  this  book,  with 
my  fnicere  wilh  that  it  may  produce  much  comfort  in 
your  famiUes.  Great,  inexfxrelilbly  great  would  be 
my  reward,  if  it  prove  half  as  ufefui  as  I  intended  it 
to  be. — If  it  prevent,  or  root  out  of  our  little  polleri~ 
ty  the  number  of  prejudices,  which  prey,  like  poifon- 
ous  infeds,  on  human  happinefs^if  it  .^xcitje  in  them 
a  love  for  virtue,  and  a  deteftation  for  every  thing 
mean  and  vicious — -if  it  twilf  the  relaxed  band  between 
parents  and  children,  and  give  the  former  a  taile  for 
the  fweccelt  of  all  enjoyments  which  God  has  fent  us 
- — a  taite  for  doniefiic  pleafures.v  Thofe  which  arc 
fought  for  from  home  ar£,  in  general,  colfly,  produc- 
ing trouble  and  wearinefs  of  mind,  and  weaknefs  and 
pahi  of  body  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  felicity  which  is 
enjoyed  in  the  bofom  of  Oii;r  families.J«  always  within 
our  reach,  and  healthful  both  to  the  mind  and  body. 
Without  domeftic  happinefs,  no  other  joys  are  able  to 
procure  us  lalfing  fatisfadion,  or  tranquility,  but  when 
this  is  fecure,  all  others  pleafe. 


« If  *  *  *  *  *■  ^  *  *  *  # 


ELEMENTS 

O  F 


MORALITY. 

*  *  * 

CHAPTER  I. 

IN  the  city  of  Briftoi  lived  once  a  merchant,  v^/hofc 
name  was  Jones,  lie  was  an  honeft:  man,  and  had 
been  fo  atteiitive  to  bufmefs,  that  in  the  courfe  of  tea 
or  twelve  years  he  acquired  a  large  fortune;-  fufficient 
to  procure  more  than  the  neceifaries  of  hfc.  He  had 
a  flower-garden,  and  his  houle  was  hnng  round  with 
various  beautiful  pi<5tiires  ;  befides,  he  could  afford, 
when  he  wllhed,  to  ride  in  a  coach,  to  drink  wine, 
and  enjoy  many  pleaiures  v/hich  men  may  live  very 
contentedly  without  ;  therefore  he  was  called  a  rich 
man. 

But  amongO:  the  various  l^eautifal  things  which  he 
poileifed,  none  were  fo  dear  to  him  as  his  wife  and  two 
children,  Charles  and  Mary.  After  the  fatigue  of 
bufmefs,  he  always  reded  himfelf  in  their  fociety  ;  -  and 
a  cheerful  look  from  his  wife,  a  kiis  from  his  children, 
afforded  him  more  delight  than  all  his  fine  furniture 
and  p;ctures.  He  feldom  reUlhed  any  pleafure  with- 
out them,  but  was  conftancly  endeavouring  to  contrive 
fuch  amufements  as  would  both  infiri.d  and  pleafo' 

B  2. 


ELEMENTS  OF 


them.  When  he  walked  in  his  garden,  or  in  the  fields^ 
before  breakfal^,  to  tafte  the  fsveet  morning  air,  and 
hear  the  birds  ling,  or  {'ought  the  cool  lhade  in  the 
cv^cning,  they  in  general  went  with  him,  unlefs  the 
children  had  been  naughty,  but  this  I'eldom  happened, 
for  they  really  were  good  ;  and  though  they  probably 
had  many  of  the  faults  common  to  children,  yet  they 
always  fnicerely  delired  to  pleale  their  parents,  and 
every  body.  One  day  Mr.  Jones  was  liccing  with  his 
wife  and  children  by  the  fide  of  a  river,  eating  cher- 
ries xA'ith  them  ;  he  pointed  to  the  fiili  as  they  I'ported 
in  the  water,  and  related  many  v/onderful  things  of 
tlie  animals,  which  our  gracious  Creator  had  given  life 
to  in  the  v.  ater. — He  was  interrupted  by  the  found  of 
wheels. 

Xhe  children  eagerly  lif\ened,  and  looked  earneftly 
top  at  their  father's  face,  as  it  were  to  alt  leave  to  run 
to  the  road  iide  to  fee  the  fight.  He  fmiled,  waved 
his  hand,  and  away  they  both  ran,  and  faw  a  beauti- 
ful coach  drawn  by  four  black  prancing  horfes.  Make 
hafte,  make  ha{\e,  cried  the  children  ;  come  and  fee 
tliis  fine  carriage  !  Mr.  jones  was  willing  to  indulge 
tliem  ;  but  when  the  gentleman  in  the  coach  faw  him, 
he  ftopped  it,  and  jumping  out,  caughi  Mr.  Jones  by 
tlie  hand,  and  fhook  it  in  the  mod  friendly  manner^ 
faying  how  glad  I  am  that  I  chanced  to  meet  you,  for 
I  am  now  renunino^  difappointed  from  your  houfe^ 
v/lierc  I  hoped  to  have  for.nd  you.  Mr.  Jones  invited 
Sir  V/ iliiam,  for  he  \n  as  a  baronet,  to  fit  down  and 
pai'£:ike  of  their  little  i'ea.i\  ;  but  he  excufed  himfelf, 
bzcaiife  his  ftomach  was  weak,  and  he  was  ai'raid  of 
the  evening  air.  I  came,  added  he,  to  requelf  your 
conipany  at  my  country  feat  to-morrov/,  becaufe  it  is 
my  birth-day,  and  I  ihall  be  happy  to  fee  Mrs.  Jones 
mid  the  children  :  I  know  flie  u  never  willing  to  leave 
the  little  ones  at  home.  They  began  to  fmile,  and 
made  figns  to  each  other,  as  much  as  to  fay,  yes,  we 
fliallgo:  our  father  will  go,  and  take  us  with  him. 
Mr.  Jones,  reading  in  tke  face  of  his  v/ife,  and  the 
au'yfi'  looks  of  the  chudrcu,  thut  they  willed  hiui  t<> 


MORALITY. 


17 


go,  readily  gave  his  confent ;  and  the  children  jump- 
ed for  joy,  as  they  attended  Sir  William  to  the  car- 
riage. 

They  then  returned,  and  feated  themfelves  again 
round  the  baflcet  of  cherries,  and  could  talk  of  no- 
thing but  the  pleafure  they  expected  the  next  day. 

Going  home,  they  were  full  of  little  plans,  and 
allved  fo  many  queftion,  that  they  ftopped  at  their  own 
door  before  they  were  aware  of  it.  A  fervant  was 
directly  fent  to  hire  a  coach,  which  llie  was  to  order 
exadly  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  childrea 
were  then  fent  to  bed,  and  were  delired  by  their  pa- 
rents, wlien  they  killed  them,  and  bade  them  good 
night,  to  remember  and  rife  early  to  drefs  themfelves 
in  time,  that  they  might  not  have  to  wait  for  them. 

Mary  was  up  before  four;  fhe  roufed  the  whole 
houfe,  and  ran  from  room  to  room,  linging  and  danc- 
ing ;  and  when  flie  faw  her  mother  ready  to  go  di.wn 
rtairs,  Ihe  returned  to  her  own  room  to  look  for  her 
bonnet. — Suddenly  fhe  dropped  her  long,  and  remain- 
ed filent  near  her  clofet  door,  on  the  floor  of  which 
her  bonnet  lay  :  Ihe  had  toiTed  it  careieiHy  there  Vvheii 
Ihe  returned  from  paying  a  vifit  with  her  mother.  Her 
brother,  who  had  followed  her,  faw  her  eyes  full  of 
tears,  and  enquired  what  was  the  matter  that  ihe 
would  not  come  and  play  wi*h  him. 

Let  me  alone,  faid  Ihe  ;  I  do  not  know  what  I  fliall 
do.  He  ran,  half  crying,  to  his  mother,  to  know 
the  caufe\ — What  have  you  done  to  xMary  !  faid  he, 
in  a  forrowful  tone  ;  we  were  laughing  and  playing 
together  j nil  now,  and  indeed  I  have  not  vexed  her, 
yet  fne  turns  her  back  on  me,  and  will  not  fpeak  to 
me. 

The  maid  brought  in  the  breakfafl  whilft  they  were 
fpeaking. — Go  and  cull  your  fifter,  anfw  ered  the  mo- 
ther, and  I  ihall  foon  hear  what  is  the  matter  with  her. 
He  went,  but  quickly  returned,  faying  his  filler  could 
not  eat.  any  breakfaft  this  morning. — ^Not  eat  any 
breakfart  I  repeated  the  tender  mother  j  go  again^  and 
dciire  ber  to  come  to  me  diredly. 


ELEMENTS  OF 


Mary  came  trembling,   her  eyes  v/ere  red  with 
weepirr^r  ;  i].e  hung  down  her  head,  and  held  in  her 
hand,  behind  her,  the  midiin  bonnet  her  mother  had 
made  her  when  ihe  went  kit  time  to  fee  her  coaiins  : 
it  was  covered  with  dirt,  and  cniit  to  wear.  Hov/ 
has  th.is  happened  ?  aihed  Mrs.  Jones.    Pray,  my  dear 
mother,  forgive  me,  fobbed  out  the  weeping  girl,  and 
indeed  1  will  never  in  my  life  again  neglect  to  do  as 
you  bid  me,  and  put  my  bonnet  in  the  box.    The  fa- 
ther entered  and  faw   her  in  tears,  and  his  wife, 
whom  he  had  left  a  moment  before  very  cheerful,  now 
looked  vexed  and  angry.    She  pointed  to  the  dirty- 
rumpled  bonnet ;  and  Nx;.ry  car-gh:  her  father's  hand, 
ftili  crying,  but  unable  to  fpeak  ;  poor  girl,  find  he^ 
you  have  deprived  yourfelf  of  the  pleafure  we  wiflied 
to  procure  you.  -  Dear  father,  dear  mother,  cried 
Mary,  turning  from  one  to  the  other,  furely  you  will' 
not  leave  me  at  home. — Oh  I  you  will  not  leave  me  I 
My  child,  anfwered  her  mother,  do  you  not  know 
that  you  have  not  another  bonnet  fit  to  go  in  ;  and 
that  this  is  the  fecond  time  that  you  have  ncgleded  ta 
put  it  by  in  the  box  I  gave  you,  that  you  might  keep 
It  clean  till  y~u  wanted  to  wear  it  again  ?  I  cannot 
help  you  :  1  muft  leave  yon  at  home,  beca\ife  I  Ihould 
be  alhamed  to  let  you  appear  in  company  fuch  a  dirty 
f  gure.    I  lhali  not  enjoy  half  the  pleafure  I  expeclecl, 
lujNV  I  am  obliged  to  leave  you  at  home  ;  but  remem- 
}/er,  that  the  (hrappointment  entirely  arifes  from  your 
own  thoughtieiinefs,  and  your  not  paying  proper  at- 
tention to  my  example,  who  always  keep  my  clothes 
in  order. 

Mary  would  have  faid  more,  but  they  fav/  the  coach 
drive  up  to  the  door,  and  finilhed  their  breakfaft  ia  a 
hurry,  not  to  keep  the  horfes  waiting,  ivlr.  Jones 
took  hold  of  Charles'  hand  ;  and  after  defiring  Mary 
to  remember  to  be  more  careful  for  the  future,  they 
drove  olF,  leaving  her  weeping  on  the  iT:ep£.  Her 
longing  eyes  followed  the  carriage  till  it  turned  the 
corner  of  the  Itreet ;  '  then  flie  itole  fobbing  to  her 
f>.wn  room^  uijdrelied  herfelf^  and  wept  till  her  eyes 


M  O  K  A  L  I  T  V. 


19 


were  fore.  What  a  hateful  thing  is  flovenlineCs^  faid 
file  5  it  has  deprived  me  of  all  niy  proinired  pleaiiire. 
The  other  day,  when  niy  Uttle  covdins  came  to  ouir 
houfe,  I  vvas  a.]]iamed  to  go  into  the  parl(jur,  becaufe 
I  had  thrown  ink  on  my  frock,  after  my  mother  ddlr- 
ed  ine  to  be  careful.  Another  day  an  old  gentleman 
came  into  the  room,  when  they  were  playing  wdth 
me  he  kiffed  them  all,  and  gave  them  fonie  fruit — • 
yes,  all  of  them — yet  he  left  me  landing  as  if  he  did 
not  fee  me  :  my  mother  told  me  afterwards  that  he  was 
angry  with  me  bccauie  niy  face  was  dirty,  and  my 
hair  tangled  ;  nov/  I  am  left  at  home,  and  I  have  vex- 
ed my  father  and  mother  ;  I  know  that  they  love  me^ 
and  wiflied  to  take  me  vvfith  them:,  when  the.y  went  in 
a  coach  fuch  a  pleafant  journey — How  the  fun  Ihines, 
and  here  I  am  alone,  crying,  inlfead  of  going  with 
them  to  fee  a  fine  houfe  and  garden— fooiilh  girl  that 
I  am  ! 

She  fat  filcnt  fome  time ;  then  dried  her  eyes,  and 
began  to  fold  up  her  clothes,  and  put  her  drav/ers  and 
clofet  in  order  ;  and  (lie  gave  the  houfe-maid  a  Ihilling, 
Ihe  had  faved,  to  walh  the  bonnet,  over  which  ihe 
had  ihed  fo  many  tears.  This  employment  amufed 
her  a  httlc  while  ;  but  Ihe  began  to  cry  again,  when 
fiie  had  no  more  to  do.  My  ihilling  is  thrown  away, 
thought  Ihe,  as  much  as  if  I  had  toiled  it  out  of  the 
window ;  had  I  been  more  careful,  I  might  have 
bought  a  new  book  full  of  itories,  or  have  given  it  to 
the  poor  girl  my  uaother  lent  my  old  Ihoes  to,  whon^ 
I  yeiierday  faw  trembling  with  cold ;  it  is  my  owa 
fault  :  Oh  !  this  Jlovenlitid/s  is  a  nafly  thing. 

Mean  while,  the  coach  drove  riuickly  over  hill  and 
dale. 


ELEMENTS  OF 


CHAPTER  II. 


ABOUT  eleven  o'clock  they  reached  Sir  William^s 
fiiiehoufe;  a  lervant  received  them,  and  made 
an  excuie  for  his  mailer,  who  was  Itill  in  bed  ;  he  in- 
formed them  that  he  had  caught  cold  by  being  out  fo 
late  the  evening  before,  in  the  air;  and  had  taken 
fomething  warm  when  he  went  to  reft,  which  obliged 
him  to  Itay  longer  in  bed  than  ufua].  He  then  offered 
to  Ihew  them  the  way  to  the  breakfaft  parlour ;  but 
Mr.  jones,  who  faw  the  garden  through  the  hall  look 
very  niviting,  propofed  a  walk,  and  his-wife  and  fon 
readily  confented. 

It  was  a  beautiful  garden,  or  rather  pleafure  ground  ; 
and  every  fweet  path  offered  fomething  new  to  their 
view,  whillt  they  breathed  the  air  perfumed  by  vio- 
lets, pinks,  rofes,  and  various  other  flowers:  they^ 
came  to  a  grafs  plat  which  furpaiTed  all,  and  command- 
ed a  fine  extenfive  view  of  the  country  ;  a  little  ftream, 
artfully  conducted  from  a  neighbouring  river,  bubbled 
through  it,  and  pretty  feats  made  of  roots  and  plaited 
oilers  were  placed  under  fhady  tribes.  They  ilopped 
to  feaft  their  eyes  with  the  fmiling  profpetl,  and  fat 
down  on  one  of  the  inviting  feats;  for  fome  time  they 
remained  quite  fiient,  till,  preiTmg  each  others's  hands, 
they  {did  all  at  once,  v.  ell,  this  is  beautiful  !  this  is 
charming  !  After  they  had  gazed  fome  tnne,  Mr.  Jones 
obfer^  ed  that  man  was  a  noble  creature ;  that  he  made 
i  all  nature  beud  to  his  power,  and  by  his  indulhy  turn- 
ed a  barren  wade  into  a  fruitful  garden,  planting  there- 
in a  number  of  w  hoiefome  vegetables  and  fweet  flowers^ 
coiiected  from  dlJereat  parts  of  the  world  ;  forcing  the 
wild  trees  to  ])raduce  deficious  apples  and  pears,  and 
jnaklng  the  water  run  over  dry  ground. 

While  he  was  fpeaking,  they  heard  a  little  noifebe- 
laind  the  hedge;  Charles  ftaried  np   to  look  froio 


MORALITY. 


whence  it  came,  and  faw  a  poor  labourer  eating  his 
dinner  ;  a  crull  of  brown  bread,  and  a  niorl'el  of 
cheele.  This  was  his  whole  meal,  and  he  wallied  it 
down  with  a  draught  of  pure  water  from  the  brook. 
Look,  faid  Charles,  there  lits  a  very  poor  man,  who 
has  nothing  to  eat  but  bread  and  cheefe,  and  only  v/a- 
ter  to  drink.  Poor  man  I  I  pity  him.  And  yet  he 
may,  perhaps,  be  a  contented  man,  anfwered  his  fa- 
ther. Come,  we  will  try  to  make  an  acquaintance 
with  him,  and  hear  what  he  has  to  fay  for  himfelf. 
They  turned  down  another  walk,  and  found  the  maa 
under  a  lhady  tree.  In  his  countenance  they  faw, 
when  they  approached  nearer,  a  look  of  honeity  ;  and 
contentment  fmiled  in  every  rough  feature. 

God  give  a  blelling  to  your  meal,  faid  iVIr.  Jones; 
tkiink  you,  maiter,  replied  the  countryman..  And  do 
you  contrive  to  hve  contented,  my  good  man,  alkecl 
Mr.  Jones  ;  for  this  little  boy  thinks  you  niuit  be  very^ 
i-ahappy  witii  fcch  a  fcanty  mealf^  The  world  goes 
very  wcil  with  me,  maiter,  replied  he.  I  wilh  it 
went  as  well  with  every  body  as  with  me  :  I  am  -welly 
tharik  God^  and  health  is  dearer  to  me  than  a  -whok  Jack- 
full  of  gold:  as  long  as  I  have  health,  I  can  work  hard, 
and  laugh  at  foiilh  fancies  rich  people,  vex  theaiieivea 
about.  After  I  have  dug  from  hve  in  the  morning  al- 
moin till  noon,  blefs  my  heart,  hovv  good  I  find  my 
meal  ;  with  what  sn  appetite  I  eat  my  bread  and  cheefe  ; 
believe  me,  my  noble  inaifer,  though  he  be  lord  of  the 
manor,  finds  not  his  dainties  half  as  good  j  and  when 
I  go  to  bed,  my  deep  is  fo  found,  I  da  not  want  a  fofc 
bed,  lalTareyor.;  nay,  I  could  ileep  on  the  ground, 
if  it  was  to  come  to'thatl  I  have  worked  in  this  gar- 
den ten  years,  and  maintained  my  wife  and  children  by 
the  fweat  of  my  own  brow  ;  have  had  a  decent  coat  to 
go  to  church  in,  and  a  bk  of  meat  of  a  Sunday,  if  times 
were  not  very  hard  5  and  no  one  ever^eard  Joha 
complain,  I  will  be  bold  to  fay:  but,  thampGod  I  have 
nevei-  been  (ick ;  iicknefs  throws  a  man  fadly  back  in. 
the  world,  and  fends  m.any^  a  poor  child  to  the  work- 
li-oiife. — J  ehu  v."as  going  on^  bat  a  fervant  came  to  tell 


1*  ELEMENTSOF 

them  that  Sir  William  was  up,  and  waited  for  them, 
fo  tliey  were  obliged  to  wilh  Joha  a  good  morning. 

They  hafteiied  to  the  ho-afe.  What  a  graad  houfe! 
The  hail  was  lupported  by  pillars  of  fine  marble,  with 
beautiful  Paitues  in  the  niches;  and  a  n.nnl:)er  of  fer- 
vants  were  bufy  preparing  for  dinner.  They  mo  nted 
a  nobie  flight  of  Aairs,  and  were  ronducied  through 
fome  large  rooms,  elegantly  fiiniiiiicd  and  hung  with 
pidiires  and  glalTes,  riclily  gilt  :  ?z  hi<t  they  v/ere  vdh- 
ered  into  the  drawing  room.  -And  law  Sir  W^illiam  re- 
clining on  a  fofa,  leaning  hit  head  on  his  hand;  his  face 
was  pale,  and  his  ianguui  eye.,  iunk  in  their  red  foclc- 
ets,  were  fcarcely  opened.  \V  hen  tliey  entered,  he 
rofe  with  fome  difnculty  to  receiv  e  tht  ji.  Excufe  my, 
ftaying  ni  bed,  faid  he,  lor  l  have  had  a  wretched 
night  ;  towards  the  luor.iing  1  iimnbered  an  iiour  or, 
fo,  bift  I  am  not  at  ail  the  U  rer  for  it.  My  iiead.  my 
head  is  very  heavy,  and  n^y  )i  v,;,:ch  tnrn^>  ai  liie  very 
fight  of  food  ;  I  have  an  o^-jreuior.  at  livy  i;r..a  t.  a 
ftitch  in  my  fide.  Oh  I  Oh  :— -vlr,  joneo  exprt.:v;d 
his  conipaiiion,  and  he  went  on  for  an  iioiir,  givnjg 
thein  a  inliory  of  iiis  van/>.is  complaints  ;  lie  iiieutioned 
a  number  of  phyficians,  to  v.  ho.n  he  iiad  applied  ;  de- 
fcribed  the  difngreeable  opera:ioi:s  he  had  imdcrgone, 
and  tlie  naufeoits  medicines  he  had  taken.  Before  he 
had  huilhed  the  (hfmal  recital  more  co.npany  entered, 
who  svilhed  him  joy,  as  is  ufual  on  birrh-dLays;  br.t  he 
could  only  coinplani  ofnls  di.^*iruers,  Vv'iiicli  rejidered  life 
a  burtlien,  aad  would  not  aiIo<.v  ban  one  day  to  rejoice 
with  his  viators.  His  lownefsof  fpirits  fpread  a  giooni 
over'  the  con v erfationi,  till  they  werereheved  by  a  fer- 
vant  who  came  to  tell  ti:!em-tiiat  dinner  was  ferx  ednp, 
and  all  tlie  company  gladly  repaired  co  the  dining  par- 
lour. 

They  palTed  through  a  range  of  fervants,  who  flood 
In  ihe  hail,  dxeficd  in  rich  liveries  ;  and,  on  entering 
the  room,  it^as  a  fuperb  light  to  fee  the  table  cover- 
ed with  filver' dilhes,  and  plate  and  glafs  glittering  oa 
nobie  fideboards.  They  were  foon  feaced,  and  one 
courfe  followed  an.other,  conhlHng  of  the  greatefi:  dain- 
ties the  ie2L[oa  afforded,  dreifcd  in  fuch  various  ways. 


MORALITY. 


23 


that  It  woi^ld  require  the  knowledge  of  French  a  cook 
tQ  clcfcrihe  th'^m ;  fweetnieats.  tVL.it,  and  many  differ 
rent  foris  of  wine,  were  iait  plated  heiore  them.  A 
fine  band  of  muiic  ftri.fk  i;p,  and  played  ihe  moll  lively 
airs  ;  and  the  company  Teemed  to  enjoy  the  fealt,  ail 
but  Sir  \V illiam :  he  was  helped  to  many  things, 
V'hich  he  fent  a\\ay  afcer  he  had  tried  to  cat  a  bit  or 
two,  to  Ihew  his  refped  for  the  company. 

When  they  returned  to  tiie  drawing-room,  to  drink 
coffee,  Mr.  Joties  and  \m  fjn  Hood  with  Sir  Wiiiiam 
^t  a  bow- window,  to  vkw  the  grand  profpedt  it  com- 
manded. A  fine  trad:  of  ground  extended  itfelf  on  eve- 
ry fide,  but  it  was  only  a  part  of  Sir  William's  great 
jeftate.  I  am  glad  to  fee  yon  fo  happy,  faid  jMr.  Joncs^ 
addreifing  his  fneiid :  yon  have  all  that  the  heart  of 
man  could  vvilh  for  ;  your  garden,  your  houfe,  yo^r 
table  and  fervants,  are  princely.  Happy  !  exclaimed 
Sir  William,  I !  wretched  man  I.,  I  believe  there  crawls 
not  under  the  fiai  a  more  miferable  creati.re  than  I  am* 
Of  "ivhat  ufe  are  ad  thtje  things^  ivhen  I  have  not 
health  P  Did  you  not  remai-k,  that  1  fearcely  tafted 
.of  any  of  tlie  diihes  ?  and  ail  my  coltly  furniture  is  loft 
on  me.  I  am  fo  continually  in  pain,  that  when  I  lie 
down  I  turn  from  fide  to  fide,  \inable  to  fleep  ;  or 
Ihould  I  {lumber,  frightful  dreams,  the  confequence  of 
a  flew  fever,  fatigue  me  as  much  as  watchfulnefs.  You 
tell  me  that  my  garden  is  pleafant  ;  I  ieldom  walk  in 
it,  lel\  I  fhould  c::rch  cold  ;  and  my  children  were  all 
fo  weak,  they  died  in  their  infancy.  I  have  no  one  to 
nurfe  me,  and  ficknefs  makes  all  my  acquaintance  fly 
from  me. — It  is  triie,  many  of  my  relations  vilit  me ; 
but  I  think  they  only  come  to  calculate  how  l^ng  I 
fhall  thus  gradually  be  linking  into  the  grave.  Believe 
me,  my  dear  friend,  I  often  wilh  to  be  in  the  place  of 
one  of  my  day  labourers  ;  to  be  able  to  eat,  drink,  fleep, 
and  laugh  ;  and  to  have  children  to  take,  care  of  me  in 
my  old  age.  I  fee  them  dancing  round  m/  fturdy  plow- 
man ;  while  I,  wretched  man,  am  a  burthen  to  my- 
felf. 

He  raifed  his  eyes  towards  Heaven,  and  a  tear  flolc 
down  his  pale  cheeks. 


54 


ELEMENTS  OF 


CHAPTER  in. 


AFTER  dinner,  Charles  went  to  play  in  the  gr«r* 
den,  and  was  fo  dehghred  with  the  variety  of 
new  objects  which  caught  his  eye  wherever  he  turned, 
that  he  thought  he  could  never  lee  enough.  At  laft  lie 
obfervcd  through  the  garden  gate,  that  there  was  ftiil 
much  more  to  be  feen.  A  river  ran  through  the  mea- 
dows, and  willows  grew  on  its  banks.  He  followed 
its  winding  courfe,  till  a  wood  diverted  his  attention  ; 
now,  thought  he,  I  mull:  fee  wliere  that  pretty  path 
leads.  He  ran  to  it,  and  trembled  with  pleafure  when 
he  entered  the  cool  ihade  ;  but  he  had  fcarcely  advan- 
ced twenty  fteps  before  he  loft  fight  of  the  meadows. 
Thick  bullies  furrounded  him  ;  above  which  oaks  and 
beeches  raifed  their  proud  heads  ;  on  whofe  top  he  on- 
ly law  a  little  blue  iky.  All  v^as  ftili,  as  an  uninha- 
bited country  ;  unlefs  the  croaking  of  a  raven,  or  the 
cooing  of  a  Vv-ood-pigeon,  refounded  through  the  trees. 
This  gloom,  the  profound  rilence,and  thehoarfe  croak- 
ing, which  fometimes  interrupted  it,  made  Charles 
feel  an  indiftinx^  fenfation  of  fear.  He  advanced  cau- 
tiouily,  and  looked  round  with  timidity  at  every  ilep. 
Sometimes  it  came  into  his  head  to  turn  back,  but  ftill 
he  loitered,  attraded  by  the  fight  of  many  wild  flower* 
be  had  never  feen  before,  and  other  pretty  things. 

One  moment  he  purfued  a  butterfly  ;  then  ilopped 
to  gather  blackberries,  and  here  and  there  he  found 
fome  wood  flrawberries ;  fometimes  he  gathered  them 
for  his  mother,  then  for  himfelf.  In  Ihort,  when  he 
liad  pockets  and  hands  full  of  blackberries  and  flowers, 
he  rcfolved  to  turn  back  and  feek  for  the  garden  gate- 
He  turned,  quickened  his  pace,  and  walked  a  long 
time,  looking  forward,  expeding  every  moment  to 
fee  the  end  of  the  wood  ;  but  he  looked  in  vain  ;  he 
waiked  till  he  was  tired,  yet  no  meadows  could  he  fee* 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


^5 


Then  it  came  into  his  head  that  he  had  ioft  himfeir, 
and  was  wandering  Itill  further  out  of  his  way.  At 
this  thought,  he  felc  acold  Ihivering  run  over  his  body, 
and  he  could  hardly  draw  his  breath,  his  heart  was  fo 
full.  JVhat  -will  btcome  of  me^  thought  he^  if  I  am  o^ 
bhged  to  remain  in  the- wood  with  nothing  to  eat  or 
drink  !  inuit  I — oh^  mufl  I  lie  in  the  dark  }  perhaps,  a 
ferpent,  or  fome  bad  man,  may  come  and  kill  me 
whilil  I  am  afleep.  Ihavclieard  my  mother  talk  of 
gvpiies,  who  (trip  little  children,  and  leave  them  na- 
ked or  carry  them  away,  and  ihey  never  fee  their  dear 
parents  any  more.  O  my  mother,  dear  mother,  I  Ijiali 
never  fee  you  again  He  was  fodirturbed  by  thefe  fad 
apprehenfions,  that  he  knew  not  what  to  do,  or  which 
way  xto  turn.  liut  he  might  eatily  have  found  his  way 
out,  if  he  had  had  fenfe  enough  to  remark  the  poiitioa 
of  the  fun,  and  direded  his  i^eps  accordingly  ;  or  if  he 
had  purfued  a  beaten  path,  it  would  have  led  him  to  a 
village,  or  at  lealt  to  afarm-houfe;  but  fear  made  him 
incapable  of  ]:efle(3:ion.  He  never  thought  of  looking 
at  the  fun;  and  after  purfuing  one  path  a  little  while, 
he  turned  without  any  reafon  into  another,  which  for 
a  moment  he  beiieved  to  be  the  right  one.  .  Once  he 
was  indeed  in  the  right  path,,  becaufe  he  found  a  branch 
of  blackberries  which- he  had  left  there,  intending  to 
take  thera  home  with  him  when  he  turned  back.  Had 
he  been  a  man,  he  woidd  probably  have  continued  in 
this  road;  but  the  reafon  of  a  little  child  is  as  weak  as 
its  body.  He  could  not  reafon  julHy  on  account  of  his 
youth,  and  wanted  his  father's  advice  to  teach  hira 
how  to  think,  as  much  as  his  Ifrong  arm  to  fupport  a 
poor  tired  boy,  whofe  legs  tottered  under  him. 

iVIore  and  more  confufed,  he  fcraTiibled  through 
thorns  and  hrtArs  at  the  glimpfe  of  a  new  path.  In 
this  ftate  of  anxiety,  the  night  came  on.  It  grew 
darker  and  darker,  and  as  the  day  Ihut  in  he  began  to 
W.eep.aloud.  Hjowever,  the  .moon  foon  was  up  ;  it 
wasiat  the  full,  and  enlightened  the  whole  wood; 
but  it  only  increafed  poor  Charles,  terror.  Whilft 
it  was  dark  ti*5  wood  appeared  all  blacky  and  hccould 


%6 


E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


not  diftinguiih  any  particular  thing  to  be  afraid  of  ; 
but  the  confined  light  of  the  moon  gave  to  the  objefts 
around  him  the  llrangeil  appearance.  At  a  little  dif- 
tance  he  fancied  that  he  faw  a  little  black  man  fitting, 
waving  his  bead  backwards  and  forwards,  that  then 
a  great  wlTite  thing  came  out  of  a  buih  ;  nay,  that  a 
death's  head  peeped  tlirough  an  oak,  and  not  far  from 
it  fomething  with  horns  and  a  long  tail.  In  fad  there 
%vere  none  of  thefe  things  ;  he  only  faw  bulhes,  bro- 
ken branches,  and  a  white  horfe  ;  yet  feai'  rendered 
his  mind  lb  weak,  that  he  could  not  confider  tran- 
quilly how  fooiiOi  his  conjectures  were,  nor  liad  he 
fafiicient  coui'^ge.to  approach  to  fee  the  objects  dif- 
tincT;ly. 

Atlafthe  recollected .  his  father's  advice,  and  fell 
on  his  knees  and  prayed  to  God  to  have  pity  on  him. 
Oh,  my  father,  who  art  in  Heaven,  he  fobbed  out, 
vforfake  notn  poor  lolt  child!  Tears  almoft  choaked 
bim  ;  but  he  was  foon  roufed  by  a  rulthng  among 
thebuihes,  and  now  indeed  he  really  faw  a  tall  black 
figure  approach  him,  with  a  wiiite^  cap.  on,  its  head, 
and  a  milk  white  pigeoH  flying  before' it.  He  Itarted 
up,  but  was  fo  weak  that  his  legs  funk  under  him,- 
and  he  ,feil  again  on  -the.  ground  ;  however,  as  he 
plainly  fay;  it.advance  nearer  and  nearer,  fear  gave 
liim  Itrength,  and  fcreaming  out  he  fprang  for  ward. -r- 
The  thing  followed  him,  cvy'mg^  flop ^  flop  ;  burhe 
ran  heedlefsly  on,  and  j'unning  against  :tlae  irpotoof  ■-^^ 
tree,  he  fell  and  .was  caught.  -  •  .  •  ■ 

The  terror  which  feized  him  is  not  to  bie  defcribed  ,• 
lie  neither  heard  nor  faw  any  thing,  and  his- .tongue 
ftuck  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth  when  he  atteinpted  to 
utter  a  few  half  formed  words. 

Notwithftanding  all  this  terror,  the 'blade  'man  was 
not  fuch  a  wicked  thing  as  Charles  fu ppo fed  j  4iis 
band,  far  from  being  as  qold  as  ice,  was  warmy  afl<i> 
.preffed  him  gently.  Poor  child,  faid  he,  what  aUeth 
thee  }  how  coraeft  thou  here  ?  and  .why  art  thou 
afraid  of  me  }  - 

The  black  man  was  obliged  to  repeat  thefe  quef- 


MORALITY. 


27 


tions  feveral  times  before  Charles  had  power  to  anfwer 
hiiu.  At  lali,  gathering  a  httle  courage,  he  afked, 
with  a  trembhng  voice,  who  are  you  ?  I  am,  replied 
the  black  man,  neither  a  ipirit  nor  a  thief,  but  the  cu- 
rate of  a  village  not  far  off.  Now  the  half  dead 
Chartfes  began  to  breathe  again  ,-  and  obferving  the 
figure  his- imagination  had  made  fo  hideous^  he  faw  in 
reality  a  clergyman  with  a  white  v/ig. 

,.1 

Tke  JOT  He  felt  in&y  eafily  Ice  concei ved ,  for  he  now 
hoped  to  find  his  way  out  of  the  wood,  condu(5led  by 
this  friendly  man;  but,  recollecting  himfelf,  healked, 
Vv'here  is  the  white  pigeon  which  ftew  before  you  ?  A 
white  pige^^n,  anfwercd  he,  I  did  not  fee  one  ;  where 
ihotrld  it  come  from  at  fuch  a  late  hour,  when  moft 
birtls  are  at  rooft  ?  Fear  has  undoubtedly  clouded  your 
light.  While  he  was  fpeaksng,  Charles  faw  him  rub  a 
white  handkerchief  acrofs  his  forehead  ;  for  he  had 
Ibeen  v/alking  faft  to  iiaften  home,  and  had  taken  olF 
his  hat  to  wipediis  temples^  a\ hen  Charles  took  his  wig 
.for  a  huge  cap.  Now  he  was  more  at  his  eafe  he  could 
reflect,  and  fenfibly  concluded  that  fear  had  tranf- 
Ibrmed  that  very  white  handkerchief  into  a  pige- 
on. 

Glad  to  hear  the  found  of  his  own  voice,  and  to 
hold  a  man's  hand,  he  began  to  relate  how  he  came 
-into  the  wood,  lod  himfelf,  and  what  terrible  things 
he'had  feen,  adding,  when  I  faw  you  coming  I  thought 
: — I  . knew  not  what  I  thought,  I -was  lo  terrified. 
.And  did  you  not  tell  your  parents,  afl^ied  the  clergy- 
man, til  at  you  were  going  to  walk  in  the  wood?  No, 
replied  Charles.  The  clergyman  drew  back  a  Ilep 
or  two,  aRoniihed,  and  let  fall  his  hand,  faying,  thy 
father  know  nothing  of  it  I — what  an  imprudent  child 
thou  arc.  Such  a  young  boy,  who  can  have  learned 
ft)  little,  j'hould  never  have  ventured  out  of  the  houle 
without  leave.  God  put  itiuto  the  hearts  of  men  to 
keep  their  children  longer  at  home  with  them,  than 


28 


ELEMENTS  OF 


dogs  keep  tkelr  puppies,  or  hens  their  chickens,  be- 
caufe  a  child  is  lliii  more  helplefs,  has  more  to  learn, 
and  could  not  To  readily  find  its  own  food,  or  a6t  pro- 
perly, if  not  directed  by  a  man  who  had  lived  a  long 
time  in  the  world.  As  you  grow  taller,  ifyouarea 
good  boy,  you  will  grow  wifer,  and  learn  from  the 
example  of , your  parents,  and  other  men,  how  to  take 
<^are  of  yourfelf..  But  now  your  parents  know  that 
you  are  fo  ignorant  and  helplefs,  they  will  be  v^ery  un- 
eafy.  Charles  had  forgotten  every  thing  when  he 
was  terrified  almolt  out  of  his  wits;  but  he  began  to 
cry  again,  as  foon  as  he  thought  of  his  father  and  mo- 
ther. Be  eafy,  faid  Mr.  Benfon,  for  that  was  the 
name  of  the  clergyman  ;  I  will  fend  a  meffage  to  them 
as  foon  as  I  reach  home.  Charles  again  recovered  his 
Ipirits,  and  encouraged  by  the  kind  treatment  he  had 
met  with,  v.entured  to  af^j  more  queltions. 

Charles.  Dear  Sir,  where  are  all  the  things  I  faw 
jul\  now  ?  the  little  man  in  black — the  death's  head — • 
the  iiorns  ?  ^ 

.  Curate.  I  will  explain  the  matter  to  you.  Did 
you  not  perceive  chac  as  foon  as  you  imagined  you  had 
lolt  y ourieltL,  you  ihoyght  of  all  the  accidents  which 
could  happen  to  a  lol\  child  ;  you  trimbled,  and  could 
fcarcely  breathe  ;~w  as  it  not  fo  } 
Charles,    Yes,  jul\  fo. 

Curate.  What  you  felt  was  fear.  Fear  is  a  fad 
thing,  it  makes  people  very  foolilli.  They  can  neither 
fee  clearly,  nor  hear  diflindly,  when  it  becomes  voi- 
lent;  and  it  feems  as  if  all  the  accidents  they  thought  of 
were  juflat  hand:  and  they  often,  indeed,  have  caufe 
to  be  forry  for  thinking  they  have  not  Ih'ength  to  avoid 
.the  ieal  danger  ;  they  make  no  elFort,  or  run  diredly 
into  the  evils  they  fiiould  Ihun. 

This  happened  to  a  man  who  now  lives  in  my  parilh, 
who  was  a  foldier  in  America  lall:  war.  He  was  aa 
idle  boy,  and  never  learned  to  think  or  do  any  thing 
in  a  regular  manner.  Very  late  in  the  evening  of  a 
winter's  day,  his  cliptain  had  occafioa  to  fend  him  in 
a  hurry  with  ibme  .orders  to  a  detached  troop,  and 


M  O      A  L  I  T  Y. 


29 


v/as  oUio  e'^  to  crofs  the  flcirts  of  one  of  the  vaft  waftcs 
in  AmeS:a.    He  had  often  heard  that  the  natives  lurk- 
thickets,  and  rode  trembhng  along,  expeding 

lee  them  rulh  out  of  every  bulli.  At  lall  he  actual- 
ly tho\ight  he  fav/  a  body  of  the  copper  coloured  men, 
who  inhabit  thofe  trackiefs  woods,  coining  towards 
him  with  manacing  geltures,  loud  Ihouts,  and  horrid 
yells,  as  he  had  heard  difcribed.  Though  all  was  Hill, 
lave  the  ruiUing  of  the  leaves",  which  a  ftrong  wind 
whiftled  through,  he  imagined  that  they  were  clofe  at 
his  heelo,  anci  fpurring  his  horfe,  it  let  off  full  Ipeed, 
till  he  le-:  fall  ihe  reins  ;  endeavouring  to  catch  them 
again,  he  fell  over  the  horfe's  head,  and  broke  his  leg 
by  the  fall.  On  the  ground  he  remained  along  time 
groaning,  till  his  groans  reached  the  ears  of  one  of 
thofe  men  whom  we  Europeans  with  white  complexi- 
ons call  lavages;  his  heart,  however,  was  humane  ;  the 
the  lame  blood  warmed  it  which  mounts  to  beautify  a 
fair  face.  He  held  the  foldier's  head  again  ft  his  bc- 
foni  tiil  he  recovered  his  ienfes,  then  took  him  on  his 
iflioidders,  and  carried  him  to  his  cabia ;  for  the  terri- 
fied-man  had  actually  approached  one.  He  foon  ga- 
thered feme  iVicks  together,  lighted  a  fire,  and  brought 
him  all  the  refreihment  the  cabin  afforded;  afterwards 
he  made  him.  a  bed,  covering  a  mat  ^vith  the  ikins  of 
all  the  wild  animals  he  had  killed.  Nor  was  this  all  ; 
he  ran  fearlefsly  to  the  fame  common  to  leek  for  ibme 
herbs,,  which  he' applied  to  his  wound,  and  bound  np 
his  leg.  Every  day  did  he  hunt  for  food,  and  drefs  it 
for  the  enemy  of  his  country  ;  and  when  he  could 
limp  along,  carried  him  within  light  of  the  camp,  and 
preding  his  fick  brother's  hand  againft  his  forehead, 
he  prayed  the  Great  Spirit  to  take  care  of  him,  ar^ 
conduct  him  fafe  to  his  own  country. 

It  was  jult  the  lame  in  your  cafe  ;  you  thought  fo 
long  of  the  accidents  you  had  heard  of,  that  you  cre- 
ateii  them.  Believe  me,  the  little  black  man,  the 
death's  head,  and  the  reft  of  the  things  you  have  men- 
tioned, were  only  branches  of  trees,  wdiich  your  ter- 
iriiied  moid^  .like  the  fo!dier's,  gave  forms  to,  though 


E  L  E  INI  £  N  T  S  OF 


i.a  la c5l  no  fjch  thing  were  nigh.  If  you  hw\  not  heen 
terrified,  and  had  always  Ibllowed  the  famc  ^e^^-g^ 
path,  you  would  cerrainly  have  foiuid  your  way  ^^^^ 
of  the  wood,  for  it  is  not  \  ery  extenfive  :  but  fea. 
in  idc  you  wander  fooiixOily  from  one  path  to  another, 
without  confidering  what  you  ought  to  have  done  the 
moip.ent  you  ddcovered  that  you  had  loi\  your  way. 
If  I  had  not  met  you,  fome  unhicky  accident  might, 
through  this  unreafonable  fear,  have  befallen  you,  for 
you  looked  like  a  fool  when  I  cfuight  you.  Charles  now 
held  the  clergyman's  hand  liili  faller:  and  when  you 
faw  me,  continued  he,  how  did  you  feel  ? 

Churhs.  I  can  Icarce  tell  you,  I  trembled  m  every 
joint  ;  tried  to  fcream  out  for  help,  but  -my  tongue 
would  not  move,  and  when  I  attempted  to  run,  my 
legs  bent  under  me. 

Curate.  What  you  felt  was  the  palTion  of  fear, 
which  is  very  ufeful  to  make  men  careful,  when  dired- 
ed  by  reafon  ;  but  very  hurtful  to  weak  men  and  chil- 
dren, who  have  not  fufRcient  Ib-ength  of  mind  to  mo- 
derate it,  and  keep  it  within  due  bounds.  I  have 
heard  of  men  who  have  fuddenly  dropped  down  dead 
^\■ith  terror,  or  been  feized  with  dreadf^d  fits  :  and 
Ibm.  times  it  renders  them  ib  foolilh  that  they  iofe  all 
theii  lenfes  for  araoaient,  and  fly  into  the  very  dan- 
ger tliey  wUhed  to  avoid. 

My  own  experience  taught  me  this.  When  I  was 
at  the  univenity,  the  houfe  in  which  I  lived  took 
fire.  You  may  fuppofe  that  we  were  all  terrified,  to 
fee  the  flames  burlting  out  at  midnight;  but  my  pre- 
lence  of  mind  ibon  returned  ;  I  haltened  to  pack  up 
my  books  and  cloaths,  and  carried  them  to  a  place 
of  fafty,  and  returned  to  alFift  the  reft  of  the  family. 
But  the  Itudent  who  lodged  in  the  next  chamber  to 
me  vas  lb  difturbed  by  fear  that  he  knew  not  what  to 
f]o — loft  time  in  enquiring  how  the  fire  began,  and 
complaining  of  the  careleilnels  of  the  fervants  :  in 
fliort,  he  brouglit  nothing  out  of  his  chamber  but  an 
o'd  draught  board  ,  and  if  I  had  not  exerted  myfelf, 
lill  his  books  would  have  been  loft,      well  as  his 


MOLALITY, 


clothes,  which  I  had  not  time  to  cai*ry^^kvv'ay.  ^  If 
I    then,  my  child,  yoii  wilhtolive  contented,  and  have  fuch 
I    adegree  ofprefenceofmiud  aswillenable  you  to  be  ufe- 
ful  to  your  fellow  creacures,  guard  againll  vain  fears. 

Charli's.  But  how  am  I  to  do  it  ?  Now  the  terror 
is  over — I  wonder  at  my  fear  ;  it  is  quite  gone. 

Curate.  It  is  not  poifible  to  guard  againll  all  fears, 
or  entirely  banifli  the  fudden  fenfations  which,  in  a 
certain  degree,  are  iifeful,  or  God  would  not  h*ve 
planted  them  in  our  mind  ;  but  try  to  moderate  them 
by  refiedion,  that  they  may  not  dilturb  your  reafon 
and  fenfes  ;  and  only  fear  the  dangers  you  .  really  fee, 
and  not  thofe  your  fancy  creates.  You  will  foon 
fucceed,  if  you  thmk  often  that  many  things  have  not 
happened  as  you  feared  they  would,  and  that  tliofe 
you  could  not  avoid  were  not  half  fo  dreadful  as  ypu 
had  reprefented  to  yourfelf  in  the  firif  moment  of  fear. 
You  fliould  try  to  rhink  of  the  beft  method  to  avoid 
real  danger,  inllead  of  giving  way  to  fear,  wiiich  cre- 
ates imaginary  difficulties.  If  you  are  good,  and  learn 
to  ttiitik  as  you  gro'^^^  up,  your  mind  will  grow  ftrong, 
and  you  will  acquire  true  courage,  which  in  the  hour 
of  danger,  keeps  the  head  clear,  and  enables  the  mind 
to  fee  the  proper  liep  which  it  fliould  refolutely  take, 

imdiilurbed  by    nnnecelfary   terror.  When  yoa 

can  truft  in  God,  however,  as  you  now  truft  in  me, 
you  will  have  nothing  to  fear. — A  child  looks  up  to 
a  man  for  piotection — a  man  to  God. 

CHAPTER  IV. 


YES,  there  he  is  !  my  dearefl  hufband. — There 
comes  our  father,  our  dear  father  !  cried  out 
the  wife  and  children  of  the  curate,  who  had  expedf- 
ed  him  above  an  hour,  and  growing  a  little  uneaiy, 
came  towards  the  wood  to  meet  him.  His  wife  kifl'ed 
his  cheek,  and  two  of  the  children  caught  his  hand, 
w  hile  thehttle  one  who  could  notfpeak  plain^  embrac- 
ed his  knees. 


32 


ELEMENTS  OP 


They  mftarntly  aflied  \^lio  that  Iktle  boy  was^  whom 
he  had  brought  home  in  his  hand  ?  He  informed  them, 
in  a  few  words,  that  he  was  a  child  who  had  ram- 
bled .into  the  wood  unknown  to  his  parents,  and  loft 
himrelf.  At  the  fame  time  requefted  his  wife  to^  walk 
home  before  them,  and  call  on  one  of  his  poor  parilhi- 
oners,  who  would,  for  a  mug  of  cider,  go  to  relieve 
Charles,  parents  from  their  anxiety,  by  aihiring  them. 
that  he  w.is  I'afe  ;  he  added,  that  he  would  follow  hetr 
llowh^  with  the  children,  becaufe  the  poor  llray  child 
was  I'o  fatigued  he  could  not  walk.  fafL  The  tender 
mother,  feeling  for  the  aiHided  parents,,  haftened  to 
the  v^illage,  and  fent  a  peafant  immediately  with  a 
meffage  to  them.  The  clergyman  followed  with  his 
three  children,  w^io  tripped  along, before  him,  whilei 
he  flyxkened  his  pace,  that  he  m/lght  converfe  with 
Charles,  wiio  could  hardly  drag  one  foot  after  the  o- 
ther, 

Curate.  Were  yon  pleafed,  my  dear,  to  fee  my  chil- 
dren run  witli  fo  much  joy  to  meet  and  kiis  ? 

Charles.  O  yes  I  If  ni.y  father  were  now  to  meet 
us,  I  Ihould  do  fo  to,  I  fliould  be  fo  glad. 

Curate.    You  would  be  glad,  and  why? 

Charles.  Why  ?  Sir.  I  do  not  underltand  you  ;  he 
is  very  good  to  me,  and  loves  me  dearly  ;.  how  can  I 
help  being  glad  when  I  fee  him  again  ? 

Curate.  Do  you  know  then  Vvhat  joy  is?  AVe  feel 
it  when  fomething  agreeable  fuddenly  occurs.;-^:  My 
wife  and  children  rejoiced  to  fee  me  again,  becauie 
they  love  me,  and  know  that  I  have  their  good  at  hearty, 
and  you  would  on  the  fame  account  rejoice  to  fee  your 
parents. 

But  believe  me,  my  dear  child,  that  even  joy,  when 
it  is  too  ftroug,  does  as  much,  harm  as  violent  fear.  It 
diftur}:)s  the  operations  of  the  underiianding  to  fuch  a 
de^j'ee,  thai  a  man  is  no  loiigcr  diredcd  by  reafon, 
and  in  this  corin!rR)n  ofLe>i  hurts  himfelf.  f  have  a 
{lifer  who  fainted  when  Ihc  heard  that  I'he  had  gained 
a  great  prize  in  the  lottery  :  and  a  peafant  in  my  pariih, 
M  lioicibn  caaiehonic;  fi^J;;c  ily  from  lea,  afur  he  h;.d 


MORALITY.  33 

given  him  npfor  loft  above  five  years,  felt  fuch  lively 
joy,  chat  he  ran  like  a  madman  down  ftairs,  and  mill- 
ing a  iiep,  fell  and  fnapt  his  ancle. — Guard  then  againft 
hnmoderate  joy. 

Charlss    How  am  I  to  guard  againft  it  ? 

Curate.  You  muft  often  think  that  the  unexpected 
good  is  never  as  great  as  we  at  firft  imagine,  and  that 
there  is  always  fomething  diiagreeable  attached  to  it. 

My  fifter,  for  inllance — her  prize  cauied  her  much 
vexation.  As  foon  as  it  was  known  that  ihe  had  beea 
fo  fortunate,  all  her  relations  flocked  round  ;  fome 
borrowed  money,  and  others  received  handfoma 
prefentsfrom  her ;  yet  few  of  them  werefatisfied  ;  and 
after  they  had  tormented  her  almoft  to  death,  they  did 
not  fcruple  to  call  her  unfeeling  and  covetous.  If  Ihe 
had  forefeen  all  this  care,  or  only  confidered  a  moment 
that  riches  never  purchafed  content,  ihe  would  not 
have  fainted  through  excefs  of  joy.  And  as  tor  the 
peafant's  fon,  who  returned  fo  unexpectedly  fromfea, 
he  had  been  from  Ihip  to  fhip  and  became  a  thief  ;  fo 
that  after  he  came  back  he  would  neither  work  nor 
obey  his  father.  If  the  unfortunate  parent  had  thought 
of  this,  and  reprefented  to  himfelf  that  perhaps  the  fon 
who  had  fo  long  neglected  to  write  to  his  old  father 
might  not  be  an  honeft  man,  he  would  not  have  been 
fo  intoxicated  with  joy,  nor  have  ftepped  fo  heedlefsly. 

They  nQW  approached  the  Curate's  houfe,  and  the 
dog  fprang  out  to  meet  them,  teitifying  his  joy  by  a 
number  of  tricks  and  marks  of  fondnefs,  till  they  all  en* 
tered  through  the  garden  into  the  houfe. 


ELEMENTS  OF 


CHAPTER  V. 


TH  E  Curate's  wife  received  her  dear  gyefls  verj 
afFe^ionately  ;  and  after  informing  them  that  fhe 
had  lent  the  meffage  to  Charles'  parents,  fhe  conducSted 
tht;m  into  the  room  in  which  Ihe  had  fpread  a  table  for 
fupper. 

It  was  a  very  ft-ugal  one.  There  was- neither  meat 
nor  paltry  to  be  feen  ;  a  plate  of  cherries  and  fome 
bread  and  milk  made  the  whole  of  the  meal.  But  the  1 
healthy,  kind  faces  which  furronnded  the  table,  made  ; 
it  appear  nuich  more  pleafant  than  Sir  William's  grand  ' 
feaft. 

Lome,,  children,,  let  us  eat  and  be  merry,  faid  the 
good  clergyman :  we  are  in  health,  are  hungary,  and 
here  is fufficient  to fatisfy  us  ;  and,  turning  to  Charles,^ 
he  added,  you  are  with  good,  friendly  people,  ani 
what  more  is  necelTary  to  niake  us  all  happy  ?  ■ 

Charles  feated  himfelf,  and  eat  v/ith  a-  good  appetite ;  ^ 
-and  he  grew  liiii  more  lively,  when  Mr.  Benfon  began 
-a  converfation  which  was  entirely  new  to  him.  How., 
allied  he,  have  you  nothing  new  to  relate  ?    His  wife 
foon  related  that  Ihe  had  read  of  a  Lady,  who  when 
an  acquaintance  viiited  her,  and  begged  to  fee  her 
jewels,  and  other  precious  things,  fsnt  for  her  children^ 
and  faid,  behold  my  treafure  ;  tbefe  are  dearer  to  me 
than  all  the  gold  and  jewels  in  the  world.— George, 
the  eldefVfon,  told  the  little  hiil'ory  of  a  man  w  lio  had  ^ 
been  fhip-wreeked,  and  hearing  ail  the  crew  lament  the  i 
loi^o  of  their  goods,  faid  calmly,  I  have  every  thing 
with  me.    Henry,  the  youngeiV  fon,.faid  that  he  had 
read  of  a  nobleman,  who  would  iioi  give  his  daughter 
to  a  gentleman,  who  had  demanded  her  in  marriage, 
before  he  had  learned  a  mechanical  trade.    The  little  \ 
Caroline  lifped  (?ut  fomething  about  a  young  moufe, 
■who  had  not  obeyed  ics  mother,  and  went,  contrary 


MORALITY. 


35 


to  her  advice,  to  play  with  the  cat,  who  caught  her 
'  and  worried  her  to  death.  And  the  Ci.rate  enterrained 
the  company  with  the  hiftory  of  a  giioiV,  which  in  the 
beginning  was  very  clrcadfiU  to  liear,  but  in  the  end 
.excited  a  univerfal  langh,  becaufe  it  foon  appeared 
that  it  was  only  the  tnck  of  fome  giddy  yoiuig  people, 
who  wilhed  to  amufe  thenifelvcs  by  terrifying  others. 

It  was  a  cuftom  at  the  Curate's,  that  whoever  fup- 
ped  with  them,  fliould  repeat  fon>ething  to  amule  the 
company  ;  and  now  came  Charles'  turn  ;  they  pi'efled 
him,  according  to  cuftom,  to  tell  them  a  itory  ;  but  as 
he  could  not  recoiled:  one,  he  fimply  related  how  he 
had  wandered  out  of  the  garden  and  loft  himfelf.  As 
he  was  obliged,  during  the  relatioK,  to  fpeakibmetinies 
-of  his  father  and  mother,  they  foon  perceived  that  af- 
,ter  uttering  their  names  he  became  more  fad,  aad  be- 
fore he  concluded,  tears  ruflied  into  his  eyes,  and  he 
aiked  perrnHhon  to  leave  the  room  for  a  nioment.  He 
was  sUowed  to  r-etire,  and  not  returning  foon,  the  Cu- 
rate fought  all  over  the  houfe  and  in  the  yard  for  him  ; 
hut  no  Charles  could  he  hnd.  At  laft  he  difcovered 
him  behind  the-kitchen  deor,  crying  bitterly. 

Curate.  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  my  little 
^ueft? 

Charles.    Nothing  at  all. 

Curate.  Something  muft  ail  you,  or  you  would  not 
cry. 

Charles.  Ah  1  If  I  ivere  ivith  my  dear  father  and 
{  mother  \ 

<  Curate.  "You  -now  feel,  my  child,  forrow,  or  a  vi- 
olent and  uneafy  defire  to  fee  feme  abfent  perfon,  whom 
you  love;  I  do  not  blame  you  for  it,  no  one  ought  to 
be  fo  dear  to  a  good  child  as  his  parents  ;  and  he  fliould 
feel  a  little  uneafy  when  he  is  parted  from  them.  But, 
"my  dear  child,  if  you  would  live  contented,  you  mufb 
learn  to  moderate  this  as  well  as  fear  and  joy,  or  you 
will  mifs  many  pleafures.  Do  you  think  you  can  bring 
[  therh  here  ^y-your  longing  and  crying  ?  Certainly  not; 
you  know  it  is  impoihble.  Of  what  ufe  is  then  this  vi- 
o^«nt  defire,  v/hith  makes  you  fo  very  uncomfortable  } 


3^ 


ELEMENTS  OF 


Come,  we  are  juft  ready  to  begin  to  play  in  the  par- 
lour, where  you  will  find  fomething  to  amufe  you,  and 
make  you  laugh  ;  but  if  you  Itill  obllinately  indulge 
your  ufelefs  longing,  you  will  lole,  at  lealt,  one  plea- 
fant  hour  of  your  life.  Come  with  me  and  be  cheerful ; 
your  father- and  mother  are  well  ;  before  tiiis  time  they 
know  that  you  are  with  thofe  who  will  take  care  of  you, 
therefore  they  are  no  longer  uneafy  en  your  account. 
To-morrow  I  will  take  you  to  them,  then  you  may 
kifs  and  talk  to  them  as  much  as  you  pleale. 

C/jarles.  No,  no,  leave  me  alone,  let  me  cry  here, 
I  cannot  play. 

Curate.     Well  if  you  will  cry  I  cannot  help  you. 

He  returned  to  the  parlour,  and  they  all  came  round 
hiui,  alldng  eagerly,  where  is  he  ?  what  is  the  matter 
with  poor  Charles  ? 

Curate.  Behind  the  kitchen  door,  fighing  and  cry- 
ing after  his  father  and  mother. 

Poor  boy,  they  all  faid,  in  the  fame,  breath,  let  u$ 
try  to  do  iomething  for  him.  They  ran  our,  and  ta- 
king him  by  the  hand,  they  prayed  him  not  to  cry  ; 
but  he  cried  ftill  more.  They  drew  him  into  the  par- 
lour ;  but  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  continued 
to  fob. 

Begin  to  play,  children,  faid  the  Curate,  the  even- 
ing is  palhng  away  ;  but  they  did  not  hear  him,  they 
were  fo  anxious  to  perfuade  the  little  Granger  to  leave 
off  crying.  So  it  happens,  continued  he,  when  we 
long  jfor  any  thing  out  of  our  reach  ;  we  not  only  de- 
prive ourfelvcs  of  much  pleafure,  but  by  continuing  to 
weep  and  lament  we  difturb  the  focial  comfort  of  our 
friends.  I  have  looked  forward  during  the  whole  day 
to  the  pleafure  I  Ihould  enjoy  this  evening  ; — my  wife 
and  children  have  eagerly  expelled  my  return,  and  this 
little  boy  deltroys  all ;  come,  my  dear,  take  the  chil- 
dren to  bed,  and  I  will  go  to  my  chamber.  He  rofe, 
and  they  all  prepared  to  follow  him,  quite  difappointed. 

Charles  now  began  to  reflect,  that  it  was  very  un- 
grateful and  unbecoming  to  dirturb  the  pleafure  of 
thofe  good  people  who  had  taken,  fo  much  pains  to  a- 


MORALITY. 


37 


niufe  hlin.  Dear  Sir,  faid  he,  do  not  go  to  bed,  I 
will  not  cry  any"  more,  I  will  play,  only  ftay  a  mo- 
ment. Then  all  were  alive  again,  and  little  Caro- 
line kiflcd  him,  faying,  he  will  be  a  good  boy,  that  he 
will. — They  foon  brought  their  ftools  back,  and  feat- 
ed  themielves  round  the  table. 

Now,  my  dear,  faid  the  Curate  to  his  wife,  which 
of  the  children  has  behaved  bei\  to  day?  Henry  fmil- 
ecl.  Do  you  not  fee,  anfwered  fhe,  in  the  fmile  of 
the  Utile  blue-eyed  boy,  that  he  has  been  the  moi\  in- 
duitrious,  attentive  child  to-day  ?  The  Curate  took 
him  by  the  hand,  and  faid,  while  he  kiifed  hun  and 
pinched  his  cheek,  are  you  not  contented,  fuice  you 
have  this  evening  received  fu.:h  praife  ?  Do  always  your 
duty,  my  child,  and  you  will  ever  fnid  this  fweet 
iatisfadtion.  Hov/ever,  I  am  going  to  procure  you  a- 
nother  pleaiure  :  you  lhall  choofe  the  game  you  love 
beft,  and  we  will  all  play  at  it. 

The  play  of  the  merchant,  faid  Henry, 

Good  children,  faid  the  Curate,  this  evening  let 
ns  play  the  pleafant  play  of  the  merchant.  I  am  the 
merchant  ;  I  have  to  fell  all  forts  of  eatables,  beauti- 
ful clothes,  bookr.  and  natural  cv.riofities  ;  in  fhort, 
all  that  you  wifn  for,  at  a  jull  price.  Every  one  muft 
now  alk  for  fomething.  Then  the  Curate  enquired 
where  they  were  made  ? — of  what  material  ? — who 
made  them  ? — the  ufe  they  were  of  ? — and  how  mucli 
they  commonly  coft  — and  whoever  could  not  an- 
Tvver  thefe  qiieiVions,  or  anfwered  wrong,  mull  pay  9. 
forfeit ;  George,  for  inftance,  ail^ed  for  a  hat  ;  and  he 
was  queftloned,  \\'homade  it  ? — of  what  it  w^as  made  ? 
if  there  were  more  than  one  fort  of  hats  ? — and  of 
what  ufethev  are  of  to  men  ?&c. 

This  ever  furnilhed  foinething  to  laugh  at,  and 
particularly  when  they  drew  out  the  forfeits.  At  laft 
all  were  redeemed. — Let  us  once  more  play,  they  all 
cried  out.  The  Curate  fhook  his  he2d  :  I  thought 
you  would  be  more  moderate  in  your  pleafures,  and 
go  to  bed.  But  the  children  begged  and  kiifed  their 
father's  hands  and  cheeks,  till  hefaid^  well,  play  once 


38 


E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S   G  F 


more  ;  but  you  will  foon  fee  what  will  happen. 

They  then  began  to  play  again,  but  not  in  fuch  a 
fpirited  manner  as  at  firlt  :  and  they  were  all  fooa 
weary.  Geprge  began  to  yawn,  He^vry  to  rub  his 
^yes,  Charles  was  almoll  nodding  with  deep,  and  the 
little  Caroline  began  to  cry  and  complain,  to  bed, 
^amma,  will  you  go  to  bed  ? — and  George  himfelf 
afked,  if  they  might  foon  leav  e  off  playing?  So  it 
/jappens^  faidthe  Curate^  -when  ^ws  know  not  ho  iv  to  be 
-moderate  in  our phafures  ;  vexation  or  difgull  always 
follows.  If  you  had  left  off  playing  in  time,  you  woi.l4 
have  gone  to  bed  contented ;  but  you  are  now  dif- 
Satisfied. 

Thus  ended  the  play,  and  all  the  children  went  to 
bed.  Caroline  hilf  crying  for  want  ot' ileep,  and  the 
ireft  weary,  and  almolt  ouL  of  huniour. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R  VI. 


IP  ARLY  in  the  morning,  every  one  was  in  inoti- 
on  in  the  Curate's  houfe,  and  fo  full  of  fpirits 
that  Charleo  could  not  remain  in  bed,  though  he  wiffi- 
cd  to  have  flcpt  an  hour  or  two  longer,  becaufehe  (till 
felt  weary  after  his  long  walk.  He  was  a  child  accuft- 
omed  to  neatnefs  and  order,  fo  he  wafhed  his  face, 
cleaned  his  teeth,  and  .combed  his  hair,  before  he  left 
his  room.  He  then  .came down  ftairs,  and  found  them 
all  drelTed  in  the  malt-d£cent  manner,  ready  to  join  in 
a  lliort  prayer,  which  the  Curate  addrelTed  to  their 
heavenly  Fnther  ;  thanking  him  for  the  protection  he 
had  affored  them  while  they  Qept,  and  entreating  him 
to  grant  them  food  the  enfuing  day,  and  fenfe  to  do 
their  duty.  They  then  all  ran  on  the  common  before 
the  door  till  breakfaft  {was  ready,  and  returned  with 
an  appitite  to  eat  their  bread  and  milk. 

George  left  fome  milk  in  his  bafon,  and  broke  part 
of  his  bread  into  it  j  when  Charles  enquired  what  he 


MORALITY. 


39 


^vas going  to  do  v,  ith  it ;  he  fald,  I  am  going  to  carry 
it  10  my  dog  Pompey,  for  the  poor  leilow  has  not  had 
any  breakfaU  yet. 

Then  he  took  them  k  to  his  little  playful  puppy  ; 
but  they  loon  heard  h  nxvry  bittet  y,and  all  the  faini  f 
ran  out  to  iee  what  was  the  marter  with  him.  There 
iVood  poor  George,  dillbived  in  tears.  They  alked 
him  what  had  happened  ?  Oh,  anfwered  he.  ?ny  dog^ 
my  little:  do{:\,  my  pood  d^.g^  Fonipey  is  dead  !  They 
Airrounded  him  and  joined  in  the  lementations.  There 
lay  the  poor  dog  George  had  been  fo  fond  of,  that  he 
always  dit'ided  his  meals  with  him  ;  and  no  one  could 
guefs  how  he  had  been  fo  fuddenly  deprived  of  life,  till 
Chearls  faw  fome  blood  on  his  fore-head,  which  led 
fhem  taluppofe  that  he  had  received  an  unlucky  kick 
by  an  nnruly  horfe; 

The  Curate  fpoke  tenderly  to  him,  and  faid,  I  pity 
you,  my  dear  George,  for  I  know  you  were  very  fond 
©f  your  little  dog  ;  but  leave  off  crying,  I  will  take 
care  to  procure  you  another  next  week.  AH  this  fig- 
nified  nothing,  George  continued  to=  weep.  Oh  1 
jny  poor  fellow,  my  dear  Pompey  ! 

The  boy,  faid  the  Curate,  is  very  forrow^ful.  That 
which  we  feel  when  any  thing  difagreeable  happens. 
We  call  forrow.  But  it  is  mifery,  when  men  carry  it 
fo  far  that  they  like  to  indulge  it.  Sorrow  does  na 
good,  and  if  George  fhouid  cry  for  a  whole  year,  my 
good  dog  !  ray  dear  Pompey  !  it  will  not  bring  him 
back.  Nay,  immoderate  forrow  will  make  him  ne- 
gleiSl  his  duty,  and  then  he  cannot  expert  much  plea- 
fure  in  the  evening.  Come,  children,  let  ns  go  in- 
to the  garden  to  onr  bufniefs. 

Sir,  faid  Charles,  with  a  forrowful  tone,  will  you 
not  foon  take  me  back  to  my  father  and  mother. 

Yes,  anfwered  the  Curate,  only  it  is  neceiFary  that 
I  w^ork  a  little  in  the  garden  Hrft,  and  tell  the  chil- 
dren what  they  ought  to  do,  and  vifit  my  Tick  parifli- 
ioners.  For  whoey.er  would  live  content,  mind  this, 
Charles,  maftdifpatch  his  buiinefsin  an  orderly  man- 
ner.   W'e  neVer  feel  fatislied  with  ourfelves  when  we 

D  2 


ELEMENTS  OF 


alwaj^s  think  of  fometking  we  Hiould  do,  and  yet  feaye 
ic  undone. 

Charles  followed  him,  a  liitle  fad  ;  but  when  he 
came  into  che  garden,  his  co;  nuenante  foon  began  to 
ciearnp.  It  was  a  charming  garden.  There  were 
not  firs,  yews  or  aloes,  to  be  leen,  it  is  true,  nor 
the  ftatues  and  fountains  wliich  ornament  the  gardens 
of  tlie  rich  ;  but  all  was  fmiple  and  ufefid  :  yet  i'weet- 
}y  pleafant.  The  walls  were  hursg  with  peaches  and 
nedarines,  and  fine  cherry,  apple  and  pear-trees  were 
lanted  in  fuch  a  manner  as  not  to  fcreen  the  .vegeta« 
les,  which  grew  in  great  proiVaidri  ;^pea^y  beans, 
and  various  oiher  u/c-f.ji  plants,  w  ere  placed  in  beds 
to  catch  the  fun-beams,  and  currants  anc  goofeberries 
grew  near  the  walks. 

One  ])art  of  the  garden  was  referved  for  flowers  | 
the  bee-hives  were  placed  there,  and  a  feat  lliaded 
with  trees,  around  whofe  trunks  honey-fuckles  and 
jellamins  twined,  afforded  a  cool  retreat  at  noon,  and 
here  ihey  retired  \\hen  it  was  too  hot  to  work  in  the 
garden.  Rofes  bloomed  on  all  fides,  and  a  number 
gf  flowers  fprung  up  in  fuceihon  to  perfume  ,,the  air, 
jind  afforded  the  Curate  an  opportunity  to  remark  the 
wifdom  and  goodnefs  of  God,  difpiayed  in  the  moit 
cfiimte  wild  Hower,  as  well  as  iu  the  nobler  works  of 
creation,  animals  and  men. 

Be)  ond  the  garden  was  a  field  ;  tliey  entered 
through  a  little  gate,  auv^  faw  two  cows  feeding,  a  calf 
bounding  near  them,  and  fome  poultry,  feeking  for 
tlieir  own  food,  which  gave  a  ilili  more  cheerful  ap- 
pearance to  the  whole  fccne.  The  hen  clucked  to 
gather  her  chickens,  and  birds  fmig  in  the  hedge  vvhich 
ep.elofed  the  meadow  ;  all  was  gay,  and  leenicd  to 
]au>^h  wiih  joy.  Charles  laughed  too,  and  catching 
the  Curaie's  hand,  he  faid,  v.  hat  a  beautiful  place 
tills  is!  if  my  fatlier  and  mother  were  here,  I  Ihould 
MQvev  w!^h  ic  leave  it  while  I  l}\  ed. 

Then  tl:e  Curate  gave  each  of  the  children  their 
raftv  ;  but  George  Vv' as  fo  forrowuil  on  account  of  the 
iLc.:v.  .if  '"'is  -h;!,  that  Henry  good-uaturedly  oiieretl 


MORALITY. 


41: 


to  plnck  all  the  kidney-beans  for  his  mother  himfelf, 
and  the  Httle  Caroline  had  a  bed  given  her  to  weed. 
George,  when  he  had  nothing  to  do,  cried  ftill  more, 
and  his  father  fent  him  into  the  houfe,  that  he  might 
not  dirturb  their  pleafure,  fnice  he  would  not  try  to 
employ  oramufe  himfelf.  After  the  Curate  had  look- 
ed over  the  garden,  and  plucked  fome  ripe  fruit  for 
their  fupper,  he  returned  to  Charles,  and  led  him  to  a 
feat,  raifed  on  a  httle  eminence  which  overlooked  the 
whole  garden. 

I  am  very  glad,  faid  he,  to  fee  you  fo  pl^afed  ;  but 
this  place  was  not  always  as  pleafant  as  it  is  now.  V7hen 
I  came  here,  about  fourteen  years  ago,  it  was  full  of 
weeds,  briars  and  fcones,  I  came  to  be  the  curate  of 
the  village,  and  married  my  wife,  becaufe  Iloved  her 
with  my  whole  heart  ;  but  Ihe  had  no  fortune ,  and 
my  curacy  was  not  fuiiicient  to  maintain  us.  This 
made  me  very  uneafy,  and  fbme  months  palTed  away  in 
fruitlefs  vexation. 

While  I  was  in  this  wretched  ftate,  a  rich  old  far- 
mer came  to  vifit  me,  and  foon  obferved  my  fadnefs. 
Friend,  faid  he,  wiiy  are  you  fo  troubled  ?  How,  an- 
swered ly  can  fuch  a  poor  man  as  I  am  be  contented  r 
You  poor,  replied  he  ,  you  may  reckon  yourfelf  worth 
above  two  thoufand  pounds.  You  joke  with  me,  faid 
I  ;  if  you  will  give  m.e  a  hundred  pounds,  you  lhall 
have  all  I  am  worth  in:  the  world,  and  you  would 
have  a  poor  bargain.  Very  well,  returned  he,  draw, 
ing  a  knife  out  of  his  pocket,  and  feizing  my  hand,  he 
made  a  ftroke,  as  if  he  ment  to  cut  it  off :  full  of  ter- 
ror, Ifnatchedit  away.  Give  it  to  me,  only  give 
this  -iitcle  hand,  I  will  let  you  have  two  hundred 
pounds  for  it,  and  leave  you  your  left  hand,  and  ail 
your  goods..  You  cannot  think,  dear  Charles,  how- 
much  1  was  terrified  by  this  demand  ;  I  ikpped  back, 
and  looked  full  in  the  farmer's  face.  Do  you  perceive^ 
faid  he,  Mr.  Parfon,  how  rich  you  are  ?  That  fmgle> 
hmb  only  you  would  not  fell  me  for  two  hundred 
pounds.  If  I  had  attempted  to  cut  off  yovir  head^  yo^ 
D  3 


^1     \  I.  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


could  not  ha^-e  been  more  eager  to  pre\  ent  me.  \Viih^ 
out^  joidng.  Mr.  Paribii,  a  young  inan,  in  healtli, 
V.  iih  a  Ibiind  mind,  aiai  robiiil  bodv,  oiicht  not  to 
coiriplaiii  of  povercy.  See  t]:ere,  die  hen,  llie  finds 
f-very  where  food  for  hcrfeifand  chickens,  and  fo  do 
thoie  pigeon^.  It  is  the  ia:ne  \virh  ail  enimals ;  the 
^^Y,^^>  t^J- owl,  the  fax,  andeveiiriii^s  ;  they  all  have 
fLuhcient  induih-y  to  procure  thenhelves  food  ;  and 
v/hy  notnian?  Hold  i.ip  your  head,  and  inftead  of 
anxiety  and  weak  complaints,  think  how  you  can  bet- 
ter your  liaiation.  ; — think  of  niingyour  arms,  and  all 
AMii  go  v:'eil.  God  prefcrve  you,  Mr.  Parfon  !  next 
wct  k  I  iliail  cc)iiie  again  to  fee  )'ou.  And  fo  he  left  me 
ill  deep  tbovicvht. 

Soi-rovvfuiiy  I  lifted  np  my  eyes  from  the  ground, 
and  diico\'ercd  a  fpider  \\  ho  liadjait  caught  a  great  fly 
ni  her  web,  andthe  whole  v.  eb  wasfrdl  of  the  renjains 
of  dead  flies.  The  fpider,  thought  I,  lives  without 
care;  fhe  procures  her  daily  bread — and  thou,  then  I 
ij/ri.ng  angrily  up,  thou  a  man,  exclaimed  I,  who 
can  If  reheci:,  read  and  write,  who  halt  a  vigorous  arm, 
and  iiigcnious  hands,  with  which  ib  many  ufeful  things 
have  been  made,  and  thou  can-t  not  procure  thy  ovv'ii 
ftibbhence  ! 

From  that  moment  I  turned  aU  my  thoughts  to  tlie 
main  frbject,  to  findfo]]ie  work  which  might  maintain 
nie.  I  palled  rlie  \\hoie  night  without  ileeping  a  Vv  ink, 
iind  hcepiefb  niglits  are  particukndy  iax'ourable  io  re- 
flection ;  I  coiiki  think  of  noching  elie  ;  it  fcemed  to 
me  as  if  ujy  whole  viHage  w  as  before  me.  My  thoughts 
ran  over  evei  y  corner,  to  fearch  for  fomething  to  do 
to  maintain  my  family. 

Then  this  Vv^aile  place  prefented  itfelf  to  my  mind 
fuddenly,  which  you  now  fee  a  calii\ated  garden. 
Some  years  before  a  houfe  had  Ifood  on  it,  but  the 
thatch  caught  Are.  and  it  wasibbn  burnt tothe  ground; 
and  the  inhabitants  left  it  in  ruins,  and  went  to  live 
fomewhere  eife.  The  moment  I  thought  of  it,  I 
rould  think  of  nothing  but  clearing  a  w  ay  the  rubbifli. 
Yes^  thought     I  could  earn  fufficient  to  maintain  my 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y.  4g 

v/lfc  and  the  coming  infant,  if  I  had  money  enough 
to  build  a  fmall  houfe  on  this  wafte  ground,  which 
originally  was  ilolen  from  the  common.  If  the  lord 
of  the  mannor  would  give  me  leave,  I  wonid  be  a 
contented  man. 

This  lucky  thought  pleafed  me,  and  I  counted  the 
hours  till  the  good  farmer  came  again.  At  ialt  he 
came,  and  his  firitqueihon  was,  w^ll,  how  are  yQ\}X 
fpirlisnow?  have  you  thought  of  any  thing?  Yes^ 
replied  I,  all  would  go  well  if  I  could  obtain  leave  to 
build  a  fmall  houfe  on  the  common,  and  if  I  could 
O!  rrow  fome  money,  to  add  to  the  little  I  have,  I 
lliould  foon  be  able  to  build  a  houfe,  and  buy  a  cow  ; 
and  before  my  little  one  came  into  the  world,  I  might 
Feafonably  hope  to  maintain  it  and'  its  mother  com- 
forra!:)ly. 

Leave  all  thefe  cares  to  me,  faid  he,  giving  me  his 
ha:id  ;  the  place  is  yours  ;  I  will  build  the  ];oafe  for 
you,  becaufe  I  underfiand  theie  matters  better  than 
you  fcliolars,  who  have  been  poring  over  books  haif 
yoi  rhves,  and  you  may  pay  me  by  degrees,  as  you 
fiiid  it  convenient. 

The  grant  was  foon  obtained,  and  while  they  v/ere 
building  rhehoufel  worked  hard  every  day  to  clear 
the  pkne  of  Hones,  and  grubbed  up  the  briars.  I'laid 
the  Itones  on  one  another,  and  made  a  kind  of  wall, 
plaftered  with  nmd,  to  keep  out  the  cattle,  that  they 
might  not  fpoil  my  garden.  The  rnbbilh  and  cinders  I 
burnt  to  afnes,  and  they  made  excellent  manurefor  the 
ground. 

The  next  year  I  brought  my  wife  cabbages,  peas, 
beans,  and  fallad ;  beiide  many  other  things  which 
already  had  grown  in  the  garden  ;.^^nd  I  feit  fmcere 
pleafr.re  vyhen  I  could  bring  he^  fomething  which  I  had 
cultivated  myfelf, ,  Ivly  pariOnoners  brought  me  ilips 
:'.nd  fr.ckers,  which  I  planted  with  care,  and  you  fee 
YvhuL  they  are  come  to  ;  nay,  ioiue  of  the  young  trees 
rofe  irom  the  kernels  which  I  put  into  the  ground 
after  I  had  eaten  the  fruit.  In  that  fpot  1  fowedhay  feed 
%i;ddover_,  and  every  year  make  hay  eno.igh  to  ierve 


44 


ELEMENTS  OF 


thy  cows,  when  I  take  them  off  the  common  ;  and  the^ 
not  only  fnpply  ns  with  what  milk  Vv^e  want,  but  fuf- 
ficient  gutter  and  cheefe  for  the  family  :  the  flowers 
my  wife  got  by  degrees^  and  my  good  friend  the  far- 
mer gave  me  a  fwarm  of  bees. 

Thus  paffed  two  years,  and  my  labonr  made  me 
more  healthy  than  ever  ;  but  in  fpite  of  all  this,  I  had 
my  cares  ;  I  Vvas  in  debt  to  fome  tradefmen  y  who  live  in 
the  next  market  town.  One  day^  when  tlie  farmer 
vrfited  me,  he  exprelfed  his  fatisfaction  to  fee  all  look 
fo  comfortable,  and  that  my  labour  had  been  fo  fuccefs- 
fiii.  Now,  fi>id  he,  I  hope  you  have  enough  to  live 
on.  I  threw  ray  eyes  down  on  the  ground,  and  faid 
no,  I  am  ftill  thirty  pounds  in  debt. 

Hearing  this,  he  grew  angry,  and  ftruck  his  oaken 
ftaff  on  the  floor,  and  faid,  not  enough  to  live  on^ 
how  comes  that  about  You  have  only  need  of  food^ 
clothes,  and  fome  books  !  Your  garden  and  poultry 
would  almoft  fupply  you  with  fufficient  food  j  and  the 
money  you  receive  from  the  curacy  is  furely  enough  to 
pnrchafe  clothes,  books  and  other  neceffaries — let  me 
lee  what  you  are  in  debt  for  ?  He  was  a  refped- 
abie  old  man,  fo  I  could  not  be  angry  with,  hini^ 
though  he  hurt  me  when  he  fpoke  fo  o^^uick.. 

I  took  out  the  bills he  mumbled  over  them..  Sillc 
for  a  gown,  v/iue,  coffee,  foap,  a  glafs  for  the  par- 
lour, china  cups,  kc. — I  fee  now  it  is:^  added  he,  only 
the  foap  is  a  neceiTary,  all  thefe  other  fupcrflui ties  you 
could  have  lived  comfortably  without ;  or,  at  leaft, 
liave  pnrchafed  fome  things  at  a  cheaper  rate,  whick 
would  have  anfsvered  your  purpcfe  quite  as  well. — 
Where  is  all  this  money  to  come  from?  Sir,  if  a  man 
cannot  pay  for  cof%e,  he  muft  drink  milk;  and  beer, 
iridead  of  w  ine.  Youi'  wife  (hould  have  been  contented 
xvlth  a  cotton  gown  ;  and  china  is  cjuite  unneceffary. 
A  glafs  for  yoi-r  wife  to  put  her  cap  l^rait  by,  would 
be  fuificienl ;  I  thought  you  had  more  fenfe  than  to  wiih 
for  i'i.ch  a  childilh  orm  iijent  in  your  parlour.  Do  you 
fee  that  raven,  he  has  j  ieked  up  a  fn:iil,  and  is  devour- 
ij}g  it  with  pleafure,    Every  day  he  procures  fufiideQti 


MORALITY. 


45 


ro  fatlsfy  his  appetite,  and  lives,. without  care  or  debts, 
for  natui'e  produces  all  that  he  wants.  But  as  loon  as 
it  Ihould  come  into  his  head,  thai  the  fnails,  mice,  and 
^ones  of  his  native  country,  and  the  wood  he  had  feeii 
grovv',  were  all  too  mean  for  hiin  ;  and  if  this  foolifh 
pride  led  him  to  fell  them,  to  purchafe  with  the  money 
the  cinnamon  and  mace  of  India,  certainly  nature 
would  not  afford  him  fuihcient  to  fatisfy  his  luxury  j 
and  he  mult  foom  be  plunged  into  a  fea  of  cares  and 
debts. 

I  do  not  like  thofe  people  who  hoard  up  their  moaey, 
after  they  have  fupplied  the  prelhng  wants  of  nature, 
not  allowing  themfelves  any  innocent  pleafure  ;  but  I 
likewife  believe  that  men  ought  firlt  to  be  careful  to  fe- 
cure  necelTaries,  before  they  think  of  fu  perfiuities.  The 
art  of  avoiding  l-uperfluous  expences,  to  he  able  to  pro- 
cure necelTaries,  I  call  ceconomy,  Oeconomy,  cecon-* 
omy,  dear  IVlr.  Parfon,  you  have  ftill  to  learn,  or  elfe 
all  your  induftry  will  go  for  nothing ;  care  wilHhll 
purfue  you  ;  and  do  not  take  amifs  what  1  am  going  to 
fay  ;  you  will  only  leave  your  poor  children  debts,  and 
cheat  the  trades-people.  ,Good  di^y.  Sir;  do  not  take 
okence  at  my  well  meant  reprimand. 

I  mult  own  ti»is  rough  admonition  hurt  me  a  little  5 
bur  when  I  coolly  retle<fted,  I  could  not  help  ackiiow* 
ledging  that  the  good  farmer  was  in  the  right.  I  con- 
iidered  within  myfelf,  whether  God,  vvho  had  takea 
Inch  care  of  the  raven,  had  not  betii  equally  good  to 
me,  and  fcon  law,  though  there  v.  ere  fome  things 
above  my  reach,  that  I  wasfurrounded  by  every  necel- 
fary^oflife,  as  vf  ell  as  the  raven. 

My/ ground  afforded  tiax,  my  iheep  wool,  and  with 
the  help  of  a  maid  who  milks  the  cows,  and  does  the 
hardeftpart  of  the  work,  my  v,  ifc  could  fpia  iV.incient 
of  both  to  clothe  the  whole  f.iiniiy.  My  dairy  fupplles 
us  with  milk,  butter  and  cheefe  ;  my  garden  furnilhes 
ail  kinds  of  vegetables  ;  and  poultry  and  pigs  ferve  to 
v-ry  our, meals:  inftead  of  beer,  we  make  cider  of  the 
apples  you  fee  tiie  trees  are  loaded  with.  •  Nay;  I  found 
I  coald  Ipare  fome  milk  and  vegetables  to  ixy  poor 


46 


ELEMENTS  OF 


parifiiioners  after  our  own  wants  were  fupplled.  And 

whatever  was  neccilary  befides,  the  inconie  of  the  cu- 
racy enabled  us  to  purchafe.  I  then  propofed  to  my 
wife  that  we  /liould  firil  provide  food  and  clothes,  aad 
not  allow  ourfeives  any  fuperlluites  till  we  had  money 
to  fpare. 

From  that  moment  I  difmllTed  my  cares,  and  never 
forgot  my  dear  bought  experience.  Afcer  I  had  paid 
my  debts,  I  faved  enough  to  render  my  ha  ^fe  neat  and 
convenient,  and  even  to  buy  fome  furniti  re  ana  books, 
befides  improving  my  garden,  and  giving  a  iitiie  to 
the  poor — and  for  all  this  I  am  bid e bud  to  labour  an^ 
leconomy, 

CHAPTER  VTT. 

WH  E  N  the  Curate  Bad  finiflied  the  la  A  fen^ 
tence,  he  rofe,  and  faid,  he  was  nov/  obIiged> 
to  vifit  a  fick  perfon,.  who  wanted  his  advice.  Do  you 
wiih  to  go  with  me,  Charles  ?  Yes,  anfwered  he,  I 
flio!  Id  like  to  go  wherever  yon  pleafe. 

They  then  went  ont  together,  and  f^on  came  to  a  lit-- 
tle  thatched  hoiife.  The  Curate  knocked  wich  with  his 
itick  againft  the  door;  a  woman  opened  it,  and  the 
moment  ihe  faw  him,-  began  to  wring  her  hands,  and 
cry,  it  is  all  over  ;.  ic  is  all  over  ; — bnt  come  in. 

She  opened  the  chamber  door— gracious  God,  what 
a  dreadful  fight  !  On  the  bed  lay  a  man,  whofc  mouth 
and  nofe  were  almoin  eaten  away  by  a  cancer.  On 
the  foot  of  the  bed  fat  four  children,  who,  as  foon  as 
the  Curate  entered,  buril  into  tears,  and  cried,  our 
poor  father  fee  how  he  fuffers  !  The  Curate  could  not 
reifrain  his  tears,  he  turned  his  fuce  to  the  v/all  and 
v,'ept,  and  Charles  wept  with  him.  When  he  had 
wiped  away  his  tears:,  he  came  towards  the  frck  man, 
and  faid  in  a  foftened  voice,  hov/  da  you  find  yourfelf^ 
jny  poor  friend  ? 
As  well  as  can  be  expeded,  replied  he  ;  I  take  care 


MORALITY. 


47 


9S  much  as  poffible  not  to  be  fretful ;  I  am  patient,  and 
by  the  help  of  patience  one  may  enarre  the  grearelt 
j^aia.  If  1  w^ere  impatient,  and  threw  myfelf  ixoin  oae 
jide  of  the  bed  to  the  oiher,  and  qv  arreiled  peexiihiy 
Avith  iny  family,  I  Ihould  loon  be  quite  ioW.  My  pain 
W'oidd  become  more  violent,  my  blood  heated  by  \m- 
pacience,  and  refUefs  anxiety  would  increaie  the  fury 
of  my  diibrder  ;  and  my  \\  i&  and  children,  who  have^ 
%vithout  :hls,  Godkiio\N  S,  faiHcient  trouble,  would  no 
Jon^er  tenderly  watch  ov,er  me.  Bi-t  reiignation  mo- 
derates every  pang;  and  my  wife,  children  and  neigh- 
bours, pity,  nurfe  and  hearLen  me  Xi^^. ^Patience  can 
foften  every  pain. 

You  are  jighc,  my  gaod  friend,  anfwered  the  Cu- 
rate ;  when  we  fuffer,  we  cannot  do  better  than  me- 
derate  our  impatience,  and  conceal  our  anguilh.  It  is 
not  the  fault  of  the  innocent  people  who  furround  us 
that  we  are  afiiitled  .;  why  then  ihould  we  make  them 
fuffer  for  it  ?  or,  by  our  ill  humour,  drive  them 
away,  whom  duly  does  not  compel  to  take  care  of  us  ? 
How  much  more  grateful  is  it  to  be  nurfed  rather  from 
a  motive  of  affection,  than  mere  duty  ?  Poor  man  \  you 
know  not  how  iinccrely  I  pity  you,  and  with  what 
fatisfaclion  I  vilit  you  ;  but  I  ihould  have  little  compaf- 
lion  for  you,  ar^d  vifit  you  with  regrete,  if  your  pain- 
ful ftate  only  excited  murmers  and  difcontent.  God 
blefs  and  fu pport  you  !  continue  to  give  proofs  of  your 
patience  and  fortitude,  till  death  delivers  you  from  all 
your  mifery,  and  truiHng  in  the  mercy  of  your  hea- 
venly Father,  you  compofediy  clofe  your  eyes.  The 
Curate  faid  much  more  to  comfort  this  poor  lick  man, 
and  affe(5tionately  fqueezing  his  hand,  flipped  a  piece 
of  money  into  it  and  haflened  out  of  the  cottage,  be- 
caufe  he  had  heard  that  another  fick  man  flood  in  need 
of  his  ad  V  ice. 

Charles  followed  him,  arid  they  foon  came  to  a  hut, 
vhere  they  law  a  ihil  more  dreadful  fight. — A  man, 
with  a  pale  disfigured  countenance,  and  livid  hps,  was, 
lying  groaning  oa  a  bed  of  half  rotten  ftraw., 
Miferably  durty  tattered  rags  covered  his  body;  but  in 
4uch  a  ma^iner^  that  through  the  many  holes  and  rents 


4« 


ELEMENTS  OF 


they  could  fee  the  form  of  a  fl:e]eton.  He  wiHied  to 
fpeak  to  the  Curate,  but  a  violate  cough  tormented  hiin 
fo  that  he  co\Aa  not,  till  he  had  thrown  up  great  clots 
of  blood  from  his  lungs.  Great  God,  pity  me  !  howl 
fuffer  !  he  exclaimed,  lifting  his  fad  eyes  to  heaven, 
when  the  cough  ceafed  for  a  moraent,  and  fell  back 
fpent  on  his  wretched  bed. 

The  Curuate  faw  his  miferable  Itate,  and  begged 
him  to  try  to  conjpofe  himfelf,  fince  patience  was  the  ■ 
only  remedy  for  fuch  violent  pain.  t 

After  a  few  minutes,  he  enquired  what  v/as  the  ; 
jRiattcr  mith  him.  A  confumption,  anfw.ered  he,  with 
a  voice  almol\choaked  with  fobs.  ; 

And  how  did  you  fall  into  it  ?   again  enquired  the 
Curate.  I 

The  iick  man  v/as  filent  for  a  moment  ;  then  col- 
lecting all  hisllrength  to  raife  himfelf,  he  gnalhed  his 
teeth  through  anguifh,  and  rofe  with  much  diffi^ 
culty. 

Ail  this  mifery,  faid  he,  in  broken  fentences  and  . 
a  low  hollow  voice,  for  his  lungs  were  already  half 
gone,  iill  this  mifery  I  owe  to  my  intemperance.  ; 

Some  years  ago,  I  unfortunately  became  acquaint-  \ 
ed  with  a  number  of  idle.,  dillblute  young  men,  and  | 
they  taught  me  to  drink. 

In  the  morning  I  drank  drams,  and  in  the  evening 
fat  at  the  ale-houfe  till  midnight,  fwallowing  ftrong  | 
beer.    Thus  I  neglected  my  work,  and  often,  when  I-  ''| 
was  half  drunk,  quarrelled  and  fought  with  my  neigh- 
bours, to  whom  1  was  obliged  to  give  money  to  hulh, 
it  up  ;  nay,  one  of  them  went  to  law  with  me  ;  it  colt'' 
me  a  main  light  of  money,  but  to  be  fure  I  ufed  him 
very  ill.    Where  could  money  come  from  to  pay  for 
all  this  }  I  fold  one  piece  of  ground  after  another, 
iheep,  cows,  horfes,  clothes,  till   every    thing  was 
gone — only  for  drink.    And  now  fee  what  I  am  be- 
come— a  begger. — Oh  ! — and  through  drunkennefs, 
and  drunken  broils,  I  am  come  to  this — oh  ,  reverend 
Sir;  here,  prelhng  his  hand  to  his  iide,  here  I  feel 
it — and  I  am  afraid  even  to  pray  to  God  to  have  mer- 
cy upon  aie^  I  have  been  lb  wicked. 


M  O  I\  A  L  I  T  y.  i-v 

He  would  have  f^^id  more,  but  a  violent  iit  of  cough- 
I-  ing,  which  almoll  itopped  his  breach,  prevented  him. 
He  firuggled  and  Uri  ggled  for  breach,  tiil  he  had 
broiighriip  a  quantity  of  blood,  and  bghing  piteoidly, 
cait  his  eyes  on  his  wretched  bed.  Tiie  Curate  thea 
fa  id  CO  him,  try  to  compofe  yourfelf,  uiihappy  man  ; 
you  experience  the  dreadful  ,eifects  of  inteniperan.ce. 
God  has  given  us  an  appetite  to  eat  and  drink,  that  \\  e 
may  never  forget  to  re^relh  and  nouriili  our  bodies  ; 
aiid  if  we  only  eat  till  oi.r  hunger  was  farisfied.  and 
did  not  criuk  till  we  weie  thinty,  we  fhoi.ld  relilhour 
food,  and  p^referveour  heahh  and  ftrength.  B  it  when 
v/e  take  more  than  is  neceiTary,  lo  pleafe  the  palate, 
it  ail  '•urns  to  poifoa  ;  we  become  indolent,  and  bad 
humours  break  out  in  naily  fores,  and  at  laft  corrupt 
the  blood,  llomach,  .lungs,  and  by  degrees  the  whole 
body.  Poverty  and  hcknefs  follow,  and  extreme 
pain,  which  only  ends  in  an  untimely  death.  Is  not 
this  a  truth,  which  I  for  lb  me  years  have  be^n  repeat- 
ing to  you  v,'ithout  eiTeci? 

O  yes,  too  true,  aniwered  the  Tick  wretch  :  but  I 
did  not  believe  you,  becaufe  1  dxd  not  faii  lick  fttdden- 
ly — -this  dreadfai  cough  came  on  by  degrees,  and  my 
companions  perfcaded  me  it  was  only  a  cold,  tUi  I  had 
no  more  money  to  treat  them  v.  ich  ;  then  they  left  me 
to  liarve  alone,  and  remember  when  in  v/ant  all  you 
had  faid — yes,  it  was  all  true — I  now  feel  it— v.  hat  a 
fool  I  was,  not  to  lillen  to  you,  who  had  only  mv 
good  at  heart.  You  wilh,  now,  alked  the  Curate, 
that  you  had  lived  a  ditterent  life  ?  It  racks  me,  an- 
fwered  the  poor  wretch,  when  I  think  what  a  Vv  icked 
life  I  have  led.  '  Gracious  God  1  if  I  had  obeyed  thy 
commands,  if  I  had  been  teniperate,  what  a  happy 
man  fnoidd  I  now  be,  enjoying  my  health  and  the 
fortune  my  facheriefc  me  , — ■iiitead  of  that  1  am  lying 
here  fick  and  in  mifery — a  beggar  ! — .viercif.  1  God, 
have  pity  on  me  I  A  flood  of  tears  roi  ed  down  his 
pale  cheeks,  and  the  Curate  and  Cliarles  felt  both 
ihocked  and  aiTected.  ^  \ 

The  Curate  tried  to  comfort  hiiii,  and  proimfed  to  ; 

E  i 

i 


50  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

I 

fend  him    fome  broth.    After  he  had  left  him,  he'' 
turned  to  Charles  and  faid,  if  thac  poor  wreCcii  had 
repeiitcd  iooiier,  he  m\ght  perhaps  have,  avoided  all 
this  mucry,  or  at  iealt  a  ^^ra-^t  part  of  it  ;  but  now  it, 
is  too  lace.    It  is  a  fearful  thiiig  to  put  otF  repentanc( 
till  a  aian  cannot  fliew  by  his  conduct  that  he  is  aiha- 
med  of  his  faults.    This  example  ihould    warn .  alj 
young  people  to  correal  their  faults  as  foon  as  theirl 
troabied  confcience  tells  them  they  have  done  wrong  •] 
for  even  a  chdd  never  does  wrong  without  feeling  un-J 
eafy.    The  Curate  turned  homewards,  intending  tol 
go  with  Charles  to  his  parents,  after  he  had  taken le^ivis 
of  the  family. 


CHAPTER  VHI. 

BETTY,  a  country  woman,  vvaited  for  them  a^ 
the  door,  to  pay  the  Curate  a  fmali  fnm  which^ 
he  had  lent  her.  He  enquired  how  her  farm  now 
went  on  She  looked  him  ftuj  ii}  the  face,  and  faid 
very  ill.    How  io  r  e-iq-aired  rhe  Curate. 

llientbe  v^onian  bi.rit  uuo  tears,  and  'fald,  I  am  a 
jTiiferable  cre.iture.  I  have  net  had  a  pcacable  hour 
Jince  I  /aw  rny  t  roiher-ln-iait s  gotd  luck.  Yes,  hfl^ 
lives  a  hne  life,  he  has  built  a  houfe,  and  bonght,  onej 
year,  the  fine  meadow  by  tb.e  chi^rch^  the  next  twcH 
more,  almoll  as  good  : — What  can  i  piirchafe  }  No-2 
thing  ! — There  lit  I  on  the  old  farm,  which  my  grand-lj 
mother  left  me  ;  and  fo  far  from  being  able  to  build 
ho  .fe,  or  b- y  meadows,  it  w ill  be  svell  if  I  can  keej 
together  the  little  furnitureand  the  poor  pieceof  groiuK 
my  father  gave  me.  But  thefe  things  will  not  lalt  fori 
ever.  I  hope  I  lhall  live  long  enough  to  fee  my  boall-' 
ing  brother-in  law  w'lth  a  begger's  v/aliet  at  hv^  ba;ck;. 
I  have  known  many  fine  folks,  as  proad  as  he,  wha- 
were  at  la  it  obliged  to  leave  dieU*  tanns,  alhanied»  tof 
fliev/  their  faces — ihough  they  had  held  the-r  heads  fdJ 


M  O  K  A  L  I  T  Y.  51 

high.  Bur  I  cannot  gviefs  where  iill  the  mon^y  comes 
froiii  !  The  rogue  mult  get  it  by  loiUe  ih\mge  means  ; 
if  ib  much  could  be  earned  by  labour,  why  cannot  I 
earn  it  ?  I  never  lit  with  aiy  hands  acrois  when  there 
is  any  thing  to  be  done, 

Gv)od  woijjan,  faid  the  Curate,  are  you  bck  ? 

Betty.  ^  God  be  praiied,  I  have  no  iickneia  to  coai- 
pTain  of. 

Curate.    And  your  hnlband  ? 

Bcttv.    Nothii-g  ails  him. 

Curate.    And  yo;:r  children  ? 

Btity.    As  gay  as  larks. 

Curate.  How  are  yoi-r  poultry  and  the  reflof  your 
Jiveilock? 

Betty.  Why  I  cannot  fiiy  I  have  much  reafon  to 
complain  of  them  this  year. 

Curate.  Ar.d  you  have  ibmecliing  wholeionie  to  eat 
and  drink  every  day,  I  Ibppoie  ? 

Betty.  "Yes,  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  want  a 
meah 

Citrafe.  And  yet  yon  call  yourfelf  a  wretched  wo- 
man r 

Betty.  Yes. — Can  I  build  a  houfe  }  Can  I  piirchafe 
a  £eld  } 

Curate.  I  now  fee  clearly,  that  you  are  an  unhap- 
py wom^in.  You  are  W' ell,  liave  lufficie,*?.t  to  live  oji, 
and  have  every  thing  uecefiary  to  render  your  life 
comfortable  ;  but  you  indulge  a  vicious  paihon — Envy  ; 
which  prevents  your  enjoying  the  bleihngs  yon  pofiefs, 
and  makes  you  grieve  and  pine  for  thole  which  Hca- 
"\-en  has  given  to  ^^our  neighboi  rs.  Poor  woman  I  as 
long  as  yon  nouriih  envy,  yon  will  eat  bitter  bread, 
snd  enjoy  none  of  the  comforts  within  your  reach'- 
Look  at  yourfelf  in  the  glafs,  you  had  formerly  a  rud- 
dy frelh  colour,  and  now  you  are  grown  quite  fallow  : 
Envy  is  the  caufe  of  this  change,  it  has  turned  the  red 
to  yeliQW.  And  at  night,  I  know  you  have  not  any 
rcii,  by  your  funk  eyes — Envy  keeps  you  asvake.  But 
Vv"  Li  at  is  worfe  than  ail,  envy  has  lb  milled  you,  thar 
cu  have  told  lies  of  an  innocent  man,  who  never  did 
E  2 


5^ 


.E  L  E  M  E  N  T'  S  OF 


yon  an V  hii-'n). — What  horrid  wickednefs  !  Recollect 
yo-.-.r!uM.%  yo  i/r,-i  ;c-  called  him  a  rogre  ;  yet  I  know 
taat  clierc;  i^,  i-oi  j,.  lur.icUer  ir.aii  in  the  whole  village. 
He  lias  only  lo  iiiaiik  his  conjtant  indullry  and  pru- 
t-'.e.' .e  tor  rlii'  viny;  lb  wed  in  the  world.  What,  do 
}'0j  call  th.it  j'rleiuily  man  a  rogue;  who  was  io  kind 
toyoa,  ^  'i^^;;  yo  r  halba  ui  was  fick  at  haiveft  time, 
lo,;;ie  yca"o  he  d-ea  %vcrkedhard  to  lave  your 

wheai:,  witirjut  e:irf-l':ng  any  reward, 

ri;e  woaun  ..^kh^  co  cry,  ihe  wiihed  to  exa^fe  her- 
iv't,  :iiC  C  .ra.-:  i.'itrrt.pLed  her  laying,  is  it  polli- 
hlt  -  J  call  :  ^v^'^^      koncit,  and  ib  Iriendly, 

a  ro;_ue  ?  :  .>  c!epr.\'e  youriblf  of  all  yoi-r  comfort 

iiiid  '^leafurc,  hca^ili  and  ileep,  and  render  yoi.rfelf 
Cid  aii'i  rply  bc:rie  \0!.r  time.  Confider  a  moment, 
h'.vc  iboii;  •  yoa  m..it  Le,  and  tha:  envy  is  a  hideous 
vi.e. 

The  V  Oman  precelved  now  that  Ihe  was  envious  ; 
f:  V  .  tucn  her  head,  thanked  the  Curate  for  his 

CO  -  li.i  went  away. 

Chanes  now  rook  leave  of  this  kind  family  ;  and  the 
Ciirate  reached  his  hac  and  Hick  to  accompany  him; 
but  a  bird  :;hai:  h mg  in  the  window  made  fnch  a  difmal 
node,  .r-jnning  from  one  nde  of  the  cage  to  the  other, 
that  he  topped  a  ujo  neivt.  and  looking  into  the  dra v.  er 
of  the  cage,  fc^wd  that  the  poor  bird  had  not  one  grain 
of  ieed  le^,  nor  any  water.  It  v/as  a  bird  George  had 
ca^'e^^'J^,  V-  heii  it  fell  from  its  nelt  and  hnrt  its  v.  ino- 
and  ever  line."  he  had  been  very  fond  of  it  ;  but  he  was 
fo  taken  up  this  nK:>rning  with  lamenting  the  death  of 
Po.npey,  that  he  hud  quite  forgotten  his  lark.  The 
Curate  was  di'pleaitd,  and  called  George,  bidding  him 
look  a.t  his  bird  ;  he  added,  fee  the  effects  of  immode- 
rate fbrrow  ;  if  I  had  not  obferN  ed  the  poor  lark,  it 
v/o',.Id  have  died  wirli  hunger  this  night  ;  and  in  the 
^iiorniiAg  we  fhoaid  ha'v  e  had  a  frefn  caide  ot  forrow, 
only  hecaufe  you  ncglecled  you  dc.ty. 

George  fed  the  bird,  while  tlie  Curate  and  Charles 
went  out  liu'or.gh  tiie  garden  gats. 


U  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


53 


C  H  A  P  T  E  Pv  IX. 


THEY  foon  came  to  the  wood  where  Charles  had 
loll  himreif  the  day  before,  and  to  the  place 
where  he  tliought  he  had  feeii  fpirirs.  Charles  could 
not  help  laiighuig  when  he  faw  and  touched  the  bidhes 
aod  brandies  which  had  ralfed  fuch  terror  in  his  mhid. 
Stop,  little  man,  faid  he  to  a  bvfh,  which  the  v.'lr.d 
had  made  to  nod  the  eveni'.ig  before;  and  propping  it 
r.p,  I  will  teach  thee  to  frighten  people  again. 

But,  Sir,  allied  he,  are  there  no  ghoits  ?  I  believe 
not,  anfwered  the  Curare ;  I  have  lived  foine  years  in 
the  world,  and  walk  in  the  dark  .  "  1  /  .  i.iid  yet 
I  ha^ie  iiever  leen  one.  Many  pco^  'c  v> n:  la}  that 
they  have,  and  I  will  tell  yon  how  it  happens.  Some- 
times people  lee  fomething  v/hen  it  is  alnioft  dark,  it 
frio;htens  them,  and  fear  makes  th?m  take  it  for  a  o;ho(l ; 
then  they  liart  and  icream,  and  tell  what  a  frigiufi;! 
{pint  uhey  have  ieen.  if  you  had  not  returned  to  tlie 
tile  \sood  to-day,  and  e:'amlned  the  things  which  cai^l'- 
ed  yon  inch  Eerror,  yon  would  have  had  fome  dreaufuh 
ftorics  to  relate  ;  and  yon  might  pofitiveiy  have  declar- 
ed that  they  were  true.  Sometimes  fooliili  people  play 
malicions  tricks  to  di(hirb  tlieir  acpi:atntance.  I  have 
heard  of  many  of  thefe  tricks — I  vviil  mention  one. 

Three  ofncexs  cam.e,  fome  years  ago,  to  an  inn,  and 
v^  ere  conducted  into  the  beil  room.  Soon  after  their 
f'.^perior  oificer  came,  and  they  were  obliged  to  give  vd 
the  room  to  him.  Tkis  vexed  them,  and  they  confult- 
ed  togetlier  how  they  Ihould  play  him  a  trick.  As  Iboa 
av  hg^^was  aileep,  they  came  into  his  chamber.  With 
Insets  wrapped  around  them,  and  danced  about  his  bed. 
That  the  General  was  al-anned  at  firil,  you  may  eafilv 
Inppofe ;  but  lie  had  great  preience  of  mind,  and  foon 
■gueiied  the  trick,  and  filently  pulling  up  the  fneet,  he 
uid  out  or  bed^  covering  himfeif  witii  it^  witl^bnt  hav- 


5i 


ELEMENTS  OF 


ingbeeo  pcrcen'tfl  l>y  them,  arr]  joined  in  the  fl:ince. 
"\\'hat  I  what,  fo:  r  white  thing^i !    The  oiu-cers  wcie- 
fi-..;^;ucneh,  hahci-ed  out  of  the  roosn  \\'lrhoMt  i\;rtjiei- 
co:Uii  deration,  and  the  next  momiiig  cleclarcd  that  riie 
lioi  ie  was  haunted. 

fc  is  tiirs,  i;jy  dear  Charles,  fhat  {lories  oF fpirit  and 
hauiuc:!  ho-ies  gain  heiK  l  ;  either  the  ])ec)ple  did  not 
j'ee  clearly,  through  fear,  cr  others  have  deceived 
theiii.  VV  lien  at  Tiight  yovi  fee  l(.)nierhii}g,  which  you 
do  noc  know  wliat  to  make  of,  advance  with  coinage 
In  It,  ar.d  look  more  neariy  at  it,  'and  yoi;  will  always 
ihar  yon  have  deceived  yaurielf,  or  that  fooie  one 
li  I  •  ^dayed  }'oi:  a  irick. 

Ci^arles  shook  his  head,  as  if  he  cotdd  not  believe 
hint,  and  iidd,  1  \.  i'l  tell  von  a  (tory  that  is  cercainly 
triie.  Unr  old  maid  iits  ioinec.nies  in.  a  room  till  eie- 
veri  or  tw  eh.  e  o'c  lock :  one  r.ioht  there  came  a  little 
y\  h\:d  nian,  nor  bii^^; ;er  tliaa  I  am,  into  the  room,  and 
cor. GHv ally  made  a'uio!;ie)n  with  his  han(h  The  maid, 
w  hi>  had  been  tolo  hc\v^  iiie  ovio  ht  to  behave  to  Inch  a 
h>nvt,  iiionld  Die  chance  to  meet  whh  it,  follow  ed  it. 
Idien  the  I'pitit  led  htr  into  the  cehar,  gave  her  a  Ipaid, 
an.d  laid,  (i^;^- in  this  j'lace,  bnt  ooferve,  you  niidt  not 
iV'eak  a  hngle  worck  She  di;g,  and  foinid  a  great 
brais  kettle  iadl  of  go;d.  che  went  to  feizs  it,  crying 
w  hat  a  heap  of  gold  I  Then  hie  heard  a  violent  noife, 
and  it  ah  Na.nihtd.  Whai  thiid;  you  of  this.  Sir?  did 
the  maid  iicc  lec  clearly,  or  did  Ibme  one  play  her  a 
:trick  ? 

In  this  cafe,  anfvvered  the  Curate,  it  ^vas  neither 
the  one  nor  the  odicr  ;  hu:  the  old  maid  has  told  yoti 
a  lie,  to  divert  yon  ;  ihc  knew  it  was  not  trne.  'J'here 
are  many  pcor-'c  who  amnfe  themielves  with  invent- 
in'i  r  no'  ic-.  and  teihng  them  to  children  and  foo- 
liin  creainrac,  -  ho  are  idle,  and  glad  to  caicji  hold  of 
any  foohih  ikory. 

Will  you  not  give  TomethiDg  to  a  poor  man,  cried  a 
-  voice  (from  behind  an  oak)  which  interrupted  their 
difcourfe.    The  Curate  and  Charles  looked  rouad^  to 


MORALITY.  55 

Tee  from  whence  the  voice  canio^  awd  favv  a  miferable 
beggcr,  who  had  iolt  his  rigAt  arm,  and  with  the  iett 
held  his  ha:  out  to  receive  charity.  I'he  Curate  was 
moved,  and  gave  hitn  a  penny  ;  and  Charles  threw  a 
half-penny  into  the  hat. 

li'jvy  came  you  to  lole  your  arm?  faid  the  Citrate. 

The  beggcr  rofe  with  fotoe  rro.  ble,  and  anfwered, 
if  you  wiil  permit  me  to  walk  a  httle  way  with  you, 
1  will  tell  you.  I  came  into  the  world  as  well  formed 
as  yoii ;  br.t  when  I  was  a  child  1  was  a  foolilh  ralh 
creature.  1  did  liOiihiiig  but  climb  and  fcrambic  up 
trees  and  dangerous  places^  only  for  the  fake  of  climb- 
ing. My,  father  and  mother  were  always  defiring  me 
to  be  careful.  Child,  child,  my  mother  would  fay, 
pray  do  not  climb  np  fuch  dangerous  places.  But  I 
did  not  niiud  \^  hat  they  faid ;  if  i  had  obeyed  ,my 
good  pareius,  1  ibouldnow  be  .another  kind  of  a  man. 
One  day  I  faw  under  our  thatch  a  fwailoa's  nelt.  I 
will  fooa  have  that,  thought  I,  and  I  railed  a  great 
ladder  agaiult  the  wall,  and  iteppedfrom  it  on  a  rotten 
board  v)vcr  a  Vv  indosv.  Crack,  crack,  went  the  board, 
and  I  fell  with  it  to  the  ground,  and  broke  my  poor 
arm — my  r'giu  .avm  !  My  father  and  inv^chy  wcpc, 
and  ran  for  a  il  rgeon  to  fet  it,  but  before  taey  coi/ld 
Riid  hmi  it  was  terribly  fwelied.  He  tormented  me 
above  three  weeks,  drawing  one  fplinter  oi.t  after  ano- 
ther. At  lail  the  whola  arm  was  biack^ — black  as  a 
coal  ;  and  nothing  could  fave  it,  it  midi"  be  cut  oiF. — 
It  was  a  dreadful  operation;  and  afrerwardb  they  took 
a  red  hot  iron,  and  held  it  to  the  part,  to  Itop  the 
blood.  So  I  became  a  cripple  I  iviy  father  loved  me, 
aurl  when  he  died  left  me  ail  the  money  he  had  pnich- 
e  i  hinifelf  to  fave  for  me.    But  as  1  could  not  work  I 

n*fpent  it,  and  nov/  I  muii  live  on  what  I  beg  from 
c.iaritable  people.  My  brothers,  who  recel\ed  no- 
thing from  my  father,  ear-;}  a  comfortable  liveiihcod, 
for  they  bave  arms,  while  I  am  Vv-recched,  and  often 
Tick   through  hunger  and  cold.    Truly^   Sir^  found 

ihs  are  of  rnon  vulne  tha^i  gold. 

The  Curate  tried  to  comfort  him  :  be  not  tro\:bled, 


56  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

poor  man,  Hiid  he  ;  if  you  are  an  Hon  eft  man  ,  and 
bear  your  inhraiiry  with  padence,  and  hart  no  one, 
yon  will  always  find  charitable  people  who  will  have 
compafiion  on  you,  Believe  me,  you  vviii  never  come 
to  want. 

Very  well,  anfwered  the  man  ;  but,  Sir,  if  I  could 
only  be  of  io.ne  nfe  !  I  eat  the  bread  of  id'enefs — is 
it  not  dreadfal  for  me  to  fee  all  men  working  for  one 
another,  and  that  I  alone  mul\  be  a  burthen  to  them  ? 
I  often  wiih  to  die,  that  I  nhght  no  more  be  pointed 
at  as  a  miferabie  creature. 

The  Curate  gave  him  fix-pence,  and  bid  him  call 
foinetimes  at  his  houfe,  an  J  if  he  \vas  fober  and  lioneft^, 
lie  v/oiiid  try  to  iindhiin  lom^  enploynient. 


CHAPTER  X. 


WHILE  they  were  converfing  in  this  manner, 
thty  heard  the  found  of  coach  wheels.  Curio- 
fity  led  Charles  to  advance  a  fev/  iieps  before  them, 
and  he  faw  it  peep  from  behind  the  bulhes. — Is  it  poffi- 
ble  ?  yes,  indeed,  i  xlced — Sir,  Sir,  here  come  my 
dear  father  and  mother  I  cried  he,  running  towards 
the  coach.  The  coachman  itoj^ped,  he  flew  like  the 
v/ind,  and  threw  his  arms  firil  round,  his  father's  neck, 
then  his  rnoLher's,  asid  co:  ld  only  bring  ovt.  dear  fa- 
ther ]_  dear  uiuchcr  !  H's  parenis  were  ahnoit  melted 
into  tears,  and  held  tlicir  lod  ion  in  their  arms  a  few 
hiinutes  wicluxit  Ipcaking  a  wo-rd.  At  lail  tiie  father 
broke  liience,  drid  -i iked,  had  von  no  companion  with 
you?  A  coiup-u'don,  anAvered  Charles,  O  yes,  there 
he  is  ;  Icarceiy  had  he  finiiiied  thele  words  before  he 
fprnngoutof  the  carriage,  ca'.ght  the  C:na:e's  hand, 
led  him  to  his  fsuier,  ai^d  laid,  this  is  the  good  nnn 
■wno  yCiierday  hivtdnn'  Ine. 

Mr.  Jones  frepj  Cd  oi.t,  and  taking  the  Ci.ra:e"s 
'haud^  laid,  as  he  diock  it_,  dear  Sir^  kc  -v  inad  I  tl.-a..k 


MORALITY. 


yon  for  all  you  have  done  for  my  poor  loft  boy  ?  Pray 
come  into  the  coach,  and  I'peak  to  my  w  iie  ;  w  e  came 
this  way  to  meet  you,  and  fpare  you  part  of  your 
walk,  and  now  we  will  carry  you  home. 

As  fooa  as  the  Curate  was  feared,  drive  on,  cried 
Charles,  to  the  coachman.  Bv.t  the  Curate  faid,  be 
not  in  fuchharte,  my  young  friend,  I  mulVmake  that 
poor  man  known  to  your  father.  He  beckoned  to  him, 
and  related  in  a  few  words  his  hii^ory.  Pvlr.  Jones 
was  moved  with  conipalUon,  vtnd  threw  half  a  crown 
into  the  poor  man's  hat,  and  his  \vife  follovved  his  ex- 
aunple.  The  miferable  creatv^re's  eyes  fparkled  with 
joy — and  he  almoft  bowed  to  the  ground  as  he  drew 
back  :  at  the  fame  time  Mr.  jones  fqueezed  the  Cu- 
rate's hand,  and  thanked  him  for  having  procured  him 
the  pleafure  of  making  glad  a  poor  man's  heart. 

As  ihey^ drove  along,  Charles  was  dehred  to  relate 
what  had  happened  to  him  the  day  before  ;  and  he  re- 
peated again  and  again  how  kindly  he  had  been  treat- 
ed by  the  Curate  and  his  family.  Mr,  Jones  and  his 
wife  became  more  and  more  attached  to  this  good  fami- 
ly the  longer  they  lillened  to  Charles,  and  eagerly 
wifhed  to  fee  them  all  together.  They  deilred  the 
coachman  to  drive  faller,  and  away  they  went,  fiili 
drive,  throwing  up  the  duf^,  and  rattling  over  the 
gravel,  and  fplaihing  through  thi^  little  trooks  which 
ran  acrofs  the  road.  New  they  entered  a  narrow 
rocky  road,  yet  Charles  was  very  unwilling  to  let  the 
horfes  flacken  their  pace,  though  the  way  was  io 
rough.  But  could  he  have  forefeen  the  difaoreeable 
accident  which  awaited  them  in  the  narrow  lane,  he 
would  have  wiihcd  to  have  gone  a  mile  round  to  ha\  e 
av  oided  it ;  for  they  had  hardly  advanced  an  hundred 
yards  before  they  met  another  coach. 

Make  way  !  cried  John,  the  driver  of  the  other 
coach.  Fool,  replied  Nicholas,  Mr.  Jones' coachman^ 
how  v^ould  you  have  me  make  way  ?  Do  you  not  fee 
the  rock  on  one  fide,  and"  the  mountain  on  the  other  ? 
Why  did  you  enter  fiich  a  narrow  rough  road  ?  allied 
John,    Aud  if  you  were  fo         acquainted  with  it, 


ELEMENTS  OF 


fneeringly  re'orteu  N'-v.-Vn:.,  —]\\  YJ.  yov  venture  ? 
Then  the  two  coach  in.  r-: . ;  ■  !  .o  •■.v-j  a.  id  (wear  at 
ea.h  odier,  \n  a  niOit  av .  • 

Mr.  Gri-.iT,  the  ma. ^  v.  l;o  :    .  on.'h,  cal- 

led out  to  his  coachi.ict  i,  ki'ock  the  ry..  .'.  ■.vii,  if 
he  will  iioi:  clear  the  v^rt/.  This  br-...Lal  '  -ecch  ro->red 
Air.  Jones'  anger;  he  laatched  at  his  llick^  nor  could 
-his  Wife  or  the  Ccraie  detai  i  him.  Air.  G-r.ilF  jumped 
ovt  at  the  faaie  thiie  ;  and  they  ad-  aijced  aM;;r:]y  to- 
wards each  other.  The  coach:nen  ipmn^  fro  ii  their 
feats,  threw  afide  theh'  whips,  and  began  tCL fight  fo 
fiinoafly,  that  the  blood  foon  Rreanied  from  their 
heads.  Mr;~  Jones  and  Gri-ii  raifed  their  voices  rat/re 
and  more.  Mrs.  Jones  called  out,  fi^r  God's  nke,  my 
dear,  coine  back  I  Charles  co-.dd  only  fay  ,  Nicholas, 
Niciiolas,  pray  make  iti  p  !  Tiic  Curate  uicd  to  fofi:ca 
maccers  by  good  words  .;  b  t  all  cli'.s  v/as  of  no  life, 
l^iere  was  a  dreadful  bustle,  a:.d  the  C\  rale  expected 
every  inltant  to  lee  the  two  gentlemen  proceed  co 
blows,  as  well  as  the  coachiiien. 

At  lalf  Mr.  Jones  recodeclci]  hlmfelf  ; — he  flretched 
out  his  hand" in  a  friendly  manner,  fayii:g,  i  beg  your 
pardo-.i,  iriir,  lamtoohaliy. 

Mr.  Gruff.  What  then — what  then—- why  are  you 
fo  haiiy 

Mr.  ynnes.  It  is  ^^ery  fooliih  to  be  fo,  and  if  w-e 
do  not  moderate  our  anger,  v.-e  may,  in  the  heat  of 
difpiite,  forget  oi^rfeives,  and  fall  on  each  oLher  like 
wild  animals,  or  like  thci'e  two  men. 

Mr.  Gruff,  ii  might  happen — but  perhaps  you 
think  that  J  am  afraid  of  yon  ^ 

Mr.  Jones.  No;  but  would  you  be  fo  cruel  as  tcr 
ftrike  an  innocent  man 

Mr.  Gruff.  If  he  provoked  me,  what  would  you 
have  me  do  ^ 

Mr.  Jones.  And  if  you  had  beaten  xuz  till  I  could 
no  longer  Hand,  v/oald  that  have  moved  my  coach  one- 
inclioutof  the  way  ? 

Mr.  Gruff.  No,  to  be  fure  ;  who  ever  thought  of 
fuch  a  thing^  ? 


MORALITY. 


.59 


Mr.  Jor.es,  Would  it  not  have  been  more  reafona- 
l)ie,  if  i  had  ordered  the  coachman  to  back  hii  boif^ 
till  he  had  made  room  for  yours  to  pafs  ? 

Mr.  Gruff,    "ies,  if  you  would  do  that. 

Mr.  Jones.    I  will  do  it  with  pleafiire. 

Mr.  Gr-ufi.    W  hy  did  you  not  do  it  at  firft  ? 

Mr.  Jones.  I  Ihould  have  done  it  very  readily,  if 
your  coachman,  and,  excufe  me,  Sir,  if  you  had  ufed 
different  words. 

Mr.  Gruff  was  foftened  by  this  frank  treatment  ; 
he  took  his  off'ered  hand,  faying,  fixrgive  me,  Sir,  I 
feel  that  1  have  been  very  unreafonabic  and  rude  i  I 
am  the  caufe  of  ail — my  violence  encouraged  my 
-coachman^I  ought  not  to  have  fulFered  him  to  ufe 
fwchgrofs  language. 

The  Curate  was  very  glad  to  fee  that  this  difagreea 
ble  alfciir  had  taken  fuch  an  unexpefted  turn.  He 
draught  Mrs.  Jones' hand,  and  faid,  how  noble  it  is 
when  a  man  can  moderate  his  anger  !  Hovj  beautiful  is 
forbearance  !  A  voilent  enemy  has  often  been  fo 
touched  by  it,  as  to  become  ever  after  a  firm  friend 
what  dignity  has  this  felf-command  given  to  your  huf- 
band's  appearance  !  my  heart  begins  to  warm  to  him. 

While  all  this  paffed,  tlie  coachmen  were  on  the 
ground,  fighting  like  two  bull-dogs.  My  dear  Sirs^ 
laid  the  Curate,^we  have  no  time  to  lofe  ;  let  us  part 
thefe  madmen,  or  we  lhall  never  be  able  to  purfue  our 
Avay. 

They  ran  to  the  furious  coachmen,  but  they  were 
fo  covered  with  blood  and  mud,  that  they  could  not 
diftinguilh  the  colour  of  their  coats.    They  called  t 
them,  but  anger  is  deaf;  they  forgot  every  thing  i 
their  fury,  and  all  attempts  to  feparate  them  only  ren 
dered  them  more  violent.    At  lait  John's  eye  met  hi 
mafter's,  and  he  would  have  difengaged  himfelf,  bu 
Nicholas  flung him  fo  unmercifi  liy  down  again,  tha 
his  head  Ifmck  againil  one  of  the  v.  heels  of  the  coach 
and  he  remained  motionlefs  on  the  ground.  Now 
when  John  could  no  longer  relii\  him,  Nicliolas  firii 
came  to  himieif ;  he  grew  calm  in  a  moment^  and 


ELEMENTS  OF 


wonld  have  raifed  John,  but  there  appeared  no  more 
life  in  him;  his  face  was  as  pale  as  death,  and  his  head 
fell  oa  his  Ihoalder.  Nicholas  fiiook  him  gently,  cry- 
ing out  at  the  fame  time,  John,  John,  canii  thou  not 
hear  me  ?  but  John  anlwered  not  a  word.  He  then 
leaped  up,  ftruck  his  bloody  hands  violently  againfb 
both  fides  of  his  own  head,  and  fcreamed  out  in  an  ago- 
ny— God  be  merciful  to  me,  what  have  I  done  J 
What  a  fury  1  have  been  in— I  have.  I  have  killed 
thee,  John,  my  old  friend  John  I 

They  were  all  terrified  by  thefe  lamentations,  and 
furrounding  poor  John,  joined  in  them.  The  Curare 
had  moft  preience  of  mind,  and  reforution.  What  (ig- 
niries  all  this  forrow  and  compaifion,  faid  he — let  r;S 
fee  how  we  can  help  the  man.  He  bade  Charles  bring 
a  little  water  in  his  hat,  from  a  fmall  ilream  which  ran 
among  the  rocks,  and  Mrs.  Jones  held  her  fmelling 
bottle  to  the  poor  man's  nofe.  while  the  Curate  ri  b- 
bed his  temples  till  there  wasfome  appearance  of  return- 
ing life.  They  all  itood  lilent,  eagerly  watching  over 
him,  and  joy  appeared  in  every  face  when  he  again  o- 
pened  his  eyes.  Nicholas  was  ahnolt  frantic  with  de- 
light ;  he  lljueezed  John's  hand,  begged  him  to  forgive 
him,  and  tried  again  to  help  him  up.  But  John  was 
fo  weak  that  his  legs  could  not  fupport  him  ;  he  totter- 
ed, and  would  have  fallen,  if  Nicholas  had  not  held 
him  up. 

Now  what  was  to  be  done  ?  Mr.  Gruff  had  not  a 
man  to  drive  him,  nor  Nicholas  any  one  to  alfiit  him 
to  back  thehorfes.  They  all.itood  lamenting  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  could  not  think  of  any  means  to  go 
forward.  At  lall  the  Curate  fa.d,  if  we  doiiot  find  an 
expedient,  we  mult  pafs  the  night  here,  and  perhaps 
this  poor  man  may  ioie  his  life  by  OL.r  delay.  Come, 
let  us  not  trifle  away  any  more  time — one  of  the  coach- 
es mult  tirit  be  drawn  back — winch  lhall  it  be?  Mine, 
mine,  cried  out  Mr.  Jones  and  Mr.  Gruff,  in  the  fame' 
breach.  They  vvo^^lu  bodi  gladly  have  had  the  merit 
of  yielding  liiit.  I'he  C-.;rai:e  coufidcred  a  moment, 
and  then  obferyed^  that  out  ofrdpea  to  the  lady,  who 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


was  not  to  blame,  it  appeared  moft  reafonable  that  ivlr. 
Gruff*s  coach  ihould  be  backeaed  to  let  them  haitea 
home,  and  then  Nicholas  might  return  to  alhR  Mr, 
Gruft.  But  what  can  I  do  alone  with  John  ?  aiked  hs 
in  a  coinpallicnatc  tone ;  fuppole  he  Ihould  faint  agaia 
with  lofs  of  blood?— I  know  of  no  other  way,  inter- 
rupted the  Cnrate,  than  to  take  him  in  Mr.  Jones' 
coach  to  my  houfe;  and  I  will  take  care  of  him  till  he 
is  perfedly  well. 

And  now  mult  the  people,  who  an  hour  before  would 
not  yield  a  foot  of  their  pretended  right,  fubmic  to  the 
•  greatert  inconvenience,  Fir  It  they  brovjght  John,  all 
covered  Avith  mad  and  blood,  to  feat  him  in  Mr.  Jones* 
coach;  and  the  Curate  laid  to  Nicholas,  with  foiiic  in- 
dignation, as  he  helped  to  lift  him  'm--^Behold  ths  fruits 
cf  anger  1  When  men  give  themfelves  np  to  auger, 
they  acl  fooliihly,  and  know  no  longer  wdiiit  they  are 
about ;  and,  after  the  fit  of  anger  is  over,  they  forely 
repent  of  their  folly,  as  you  do  now. 

Nicholas  drew  the  coach  back  wdth  great  diiTiCulty, 
large  drops  of  fweat  ran  down  his  cheeks,  he  was  fo 
fatigued,  though  they  all  alFiited  him,  except  Mrs. 
Jones  and  Charles,  for  they  fat  in  the  coach,  and  fiip- 
ported  John.  After  this  laborious  bufiuefs,  Nicholas 
mounted  his  box,  and  drove  llowly  and  mournfully  for- 
ward. 

Mr.  Gruff  followed  them  with  his  eyes  till  they 
were  out  of  light,  and  would  willingly  have  accompa- 
nied them  ;  but  he  was  obUged  to  flay  and  watch  his 
horfes  till  Nicholas  came  back.  Poor  man,  the  time 
feemed  to  him  very  long ;  he  remained  alone  tv/o 

,  hours  in  the  place  of  his  fervant ;  he  might  have  amufed 
himfelf,  but  he  could  think  of  nothing  but  his  fooliih 
condutt,  and  how^  little  his  anger  muft  Jiave  made  him 

I  look  in  the  ftrang-ers  eves. 

1  • 


F 


? 

62 


E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


CHAP  T  E  R  XI. 


yf'  E  A  N  time  Mr.  Jones  and  his  company  advan- 
Jl-V  A  "^^^^  Towards  the  Milage  where  the  Curate  lived. 
But  they  were  continually  terrified;  for  John  fainted 
ieveral  times,  falling  lirlt  on  one,  then  on  another. 

It  may  eaiily  be  fiippofed  what  nafty  hgures  they  ail 
appeared,  covered  with  mud  and  blood;  br;t  they 
Avcnld  w  illingly  have  bore  all  this,  if  Jo.hnhad  been 
better;  b\uheorcw  vorfc  and  worfe,  and  they  were 
rircav'Itii'iy  afraitl  that  he  would  die  in  die  coach;  before 
thc\  rr.ujicd  the  Ci;rate's  hou.fe.  They  every  mo- 
ment looked  out.of  tlie  window,  to  fee  if  they  ccuid  le€ 
the  l^eeple  riling  out  of  the  trees  ;  and  bade  I'vicholas 
drive  as  fait  as  poihblc  to  eafc  them  of  their  fears;  but 
the  coach  road  wtis  three  or  four  miles  roimd.  ho- 
hi  did  all  he  could  to  halten  fcrwarc:  ;  )^^tti:ey  ^•.  tie 
an  hour  on  the  road,  and  their  apyrelieniioii:.  ir^aJt;  ii: 
appear  as  long  as  four  or  five. 

VtMien  at  laiUhey  arrived  at  the  door,  ihe'.r  nrli  care 
was  about  John.  They  wiihed  re  lead  him  iixto  the 
hoafe,  but  the  motion  was  too  rr.v^ch  ibr  him.  aiid  he 
ihnk  fenlflpls  into  the  arms  of  ihe  Curate,  who  pray- 
ed '  fome  coiintryuicn,  Y.  hc'u  curiofity  had  gathered 
round  the  coach,  to  aiihi-  in  carrying  hmi  nuo  the 
Jiouie. 

it  IS  eafy  to  fuppofe  the  terror  this  f^g'it  raifed  in  the 
family.  Mrs.  Benlbn  looked  at  her  hi  iband,  when 
file  faw' them  brinp_  in  a  llranger,  who  feemed  to  be 
dead.  The  children  cried,  Mr.  Jones  ^xiid  his  w  ife 
flood  mute,  and  the  Curate  himfelf  walked  in  an  agita- 
ted m-anner  once  or  tw  ice  up  and  do\v  n  the  chamber. 

At  lall  he  faid,  let  one  infbntiy  go  for  Mr.  Smith, 
.the  furgeon.  George  ftartedup  immediately,  and  ran 
down  iiairs.  How  tedious  did  the  q^jarter  of  an  hov:r 
appear.    They  wxnt  every  moment  to  the  w  indow  to 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y.  '63 

f  v-\i   ^.:.]^ing;  and  from  the  window  to  John  ; 

a  his  piiile,  iiil-^bed  his  temples,  heid  vinegar  fo  his 
lioie  ';  but  u-ii  would  not  do  ;  he  did  not  open  his  eyes. 
He  is  dead,  cried  the  Curate's  wife    he  is  dead,  cried 

Irs.  Jones  ;~yes^  yes,  he  is  dead,  faid  the  children 
..Lcr-them,  and  they  -Al  began  to  weep. 

The  Curate  himielf  was  alarmed  ;  he  walked  feme- 
ti-,nes  quick,  fomc times  flow,  up  and  down  the  room, 
looked  eaniei'Uy  out  of  the  w-indo\v,  then  returning  to 
John,  would  foon  leave  him  with  a  llgh,  and  yet 
co'-ne  back  again.  In  one  or' his  walks,  he  turned  011 
Nicholas,  who  iicod  Itupid  with  grief  in  a  dark  corner. 
What  do  yon  do  here,  r.lked  he,  I  thought  you  had 
returned  long  ago  to  Mr.  Gruff?  I  could  not  go, 
replied  he^  if  it  was  to  lave  my  life,  till  I  know  what 
will  become  of  John.  They  ail  tried  to  perfuade  him; 
but  he  could  only  anfwer,  that  he  could  not  leave  that 
place  till  he  knew  what  Vs  ould  become  of  John.  While 
they  were  difputing,  Mr.  Smith,  the  lurgeon,  en- 
tered. They  ail  flocked  round  him,  eager  to  hear  if 
he  thought  the  poor  man  had  any  life  in  him. 

We  lhall  fee,  we  fnall  fee,  faid  he,  and  made  them 
relate  in  a  tew  words  tlic  fad  accident  ;  he  approach- 
ed the  bed,  took  aline  feather  out  of  the  pillow,  and 
held  it  to  John's  nofe  ;  the  down  on  the  feather  mo- 
V9d.  He  lives  Ibll,  cried  he,  fee  he  breathes  ;  but 
let  us  iVrip  off  his  clothes,  and  open  a  vain.  He  open- 
ed one,  and  the  blood  flowed.  A  moment  after  he 
breathed  v/'ith  more  force,  opened  his  eyes,  and  looked 
round  Yv^kh  alfare  ef  w  iidafionirnment — where — where 
— am  I  faid  he,  with  a  weak  voice.  By  me,  by 
me  I  cried  Nicholas,  furely  you  know  me  again,  dear 
John?  John  groaned,  and  ihut  his  eyes.  The  furgeoa 
examiiied  his  head  ;  they  all  had  their  eyes  fixed  on 
/iim,  but  he  remained  filenr,  till  Mr.  Jones,  aiked,  is 

h^re  anf^hope  Then  evrry  one  joined  in  the  enquiry 
.".it  Nicholas,  and  ills  eyes  were  faflened  on  the  fijr- 
geon's  face,  while  he  itood  with  his  mouth  open,  ai- 
molt  afraid  to  b'reathe — Yes,  laid  the  fiirgeon,  there  is 


64 


ELEMENTS  OF 


hope,  and  if  noihing  uncxpecled  happens,  he  may  be 
able  to  return  to  his  iiiafter  in  a  few  days. 

They  all  rejoiced,  vvhen  they  heard  this  news. 
God  be  ch. inked  !  cried  Nicholas,  for  fuch  good  hopes; 
now  I  am  happy,  and  ihali  go  with  a  ligiit  heart  and 
drive  Mr.  Grutf  home.  He  %vent,  and  found  Mr. 
G  I'll  it  very  uneafy  and  i  mpatien  t. 

A.her  John  v/as  placed  comfortably  in  bed,  the  Cu- 
r.ue  (ielii-cd  the  chiMren  to  be  very  quiet;  we  may 
uilbe  content,  laid  he,  lince  there  is  hope.  0^, 
\i'h.'U  a  cLKrrmirig  thing  is  hope  !  How  fatisiiv^d  v.-e  are, 
\N'he;i  v^.  any  vexariobs  fui;ation  we  can  Ic  k  forward, 
to  lOaiicLhiug  good  which  liiil  awaits  us. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  H  XIX. 


IT  nov/ grew  late  in  the  evening,  and  the  Curate, 
witVi  reafon,  fnppofed  that  his  guefts  mnit  by  this 
tine  to  be  very  hungry.  He  rec^ueited  his  wife  to  let 
tlie  )i  quickly  have  fomethlng  to  eat  ;  this  was  foon 
done,  ilie  brought  out  all  tiia-:  her  pantry  contained. 
It  was  not  much  ;  but  all  was  good  of  its  kind,  and 
prodiv  ed  with  facli  neatsefs  and  order,  that  the  whole 
C0(:r)_:ny  fac  do >vn  wiih,  a  lharp  aopotice,  and  would 
have  enjoined  their  meal,  if  the/  had  no:  been  inter- 
rupted jiift  as  they  began  to  eat.  Jona's  room  vv-as  o- 
ver  the  parioitr,  and  they  heard  fuch  loud  groans  f  d- 
denly  iTiie  from  ic,  that  they  haiVdy  rofe,  antl  ail  ran 
anxiovdly  to  alk  what  was  the  m.ituer  ?  What  he  want- 
e.A  ^  Ah  \  my  poor  wifd,  ray  poor  children  ]  what 
\\  V\{  Lkev'thiiik  v.  hen  tliey  rkid  I  do  not  come  home  to- 
night i  if  they  liear  of  my  quarrel,  and  if  they  do  nor 
liear  that  I  am  dill  alive — whatwiU  become  of  them  I 
The  whole  coinpany  felt  for  him,  and  looked  at  each 
other,  not  knowin..-;  v/hr.t  to  fay  to  comfort  him,  liis 
grief  w  7.S  fo  reafoiiablc.  Mr.  Jooes  drew  his  wife  a- 
iide,  anj  laidj  1  can  caiily  rcprefent  to  myfeif  the 


M  OR  A  L  I  T  y. 


65 


^-  trov.ble  this  poor  man  ninii  endure — if  fi-ch  an  accident 
had  happened  to  me — and  1  could  not  return  to  yoiu — 
My  love,  interrupted  ihe,  if  you  were  once  to  ftay 

-  from  home,  and  I  heard  that  you  lay  at  the  point  of 
■  death — dearelV  life,  I  coifid  not  hear  that  !  Charles  be- 
gan to  weep,  and  faid,  if  yon  were  to  die,  dear  fa- 
ther, and  I  not  be  wich   you,  i  too  iijould  die  with 
grief  ! 

The  poor  man,  the  pour  woman,  and  her  c!}ilcren. 
I  wilh  i  coukl  think  of  lome  way  to  help  t!  e  n,  f:iid 

-  Mr.  Jones.  Dear  father,  laid  Charle-.  I  a  -  fare  yoii 
can  think  of  fomething.  Mr.  Jones  r.  bbtd  hi  :or?_ 
head,  and  faid,  true,  1  could  think  of  fometh  ng  ;  hu^ 
then  it  won  Id  be  expenfive.  I  will  not  slk  fcr  fix, 
pence  before  Chriitmas,  eagerly  anfwered  Charles 
if  you  v,'ill  help  this  poor  man^  Well,  repH^d  Mr' 
Jones,  we  will  ice  what  can  be  done.  He  then  turn- 
ed to  the  Curate,  to  enqi'ire  if  he  could  procui-e  him  a 
xnedenger,  to  fet  ©tt'd -recti y  for  John's  little  hat,  and 
inform  his  family  that  he  was  out  of  danger,  and  with 
people  who  would  take  cai^e  of  him.  it-would  not  be 
very  diincuk,  replied  the  Curate,  b,ut  as  k  is  late,  and 
the  way.  long  and  dreary,  he  will  expect  to  be  well  paid 
for  his.  troiibie.    I  would  willingly  give  a  guinea,  faid 

-Mr.  Jones  ;  I  fiiould  think  that  would  be  fufRcient?— 
\es,  more  than  will  be  expected,  iaterrupted  the  Cu 
race  ;  I  dare  fay  I.  lliall  procure  a  llrong  lad  in  this 
i/neiglibourhood  for  half  the  money.  J 
^     K.'t    ent  our,  and  loon  returned  with  one,  who  had 
fei/  w^d  with  joy  the  opportunicy  of  earning  ibme  mo- 
,  ney,  and  promifed  to  delivei*  his  melTage  v,ery  faith- 
[^  fiiUy. — And  the  liirgeoa,  laid  Mr.  JoneSj,  I  will  fettle 
with  him,  and  difcharge  all  the  other  expences  ;  pray 
let  hun  want  for  nothing.    I  will  take  care  that  he 
Vv-aiLtsfornothing,  replied  the  Curate  ;  but  you.  Sir, 
need  not  be  at  any  further  expence.    Nay,  interrupt- 
ed Mr.  Jones,  you  have  already  ijad  ..trouble  enough, 
^vMtliout  Lieing  obliged  to  pay  the  furgeon  ;  you,  my 
,  good  friend,  have  too  much  fenfe  to  indulge  falle 
I  l^nde  ;  your  poor  parifnioners  want  all  tiie  money  you. 
'  F  3 


E  L  E  IvI  E.  N  T  S  OF 


c  n  ■       n:;,';  mat^rr.  The 

^'Vi-;  .  J,,  :  ,J  ^-^•.^c-r:-.!.  T^ey 

the, ^  a-:pr.,  -. ^;o::-''5  i^rj,  a-;,:      "  •    /' .  ■  :..a 

3}ie'-:;2;t  li:; ^ :.j :  lo      ,  ,  :  u;s 

t.ii^jiiy  ;..c  tiike^i  ..ire.-;:.'.    .    ^^  l:  co  work. 

Indeed,  indeed,  ci'cd  loii.-:.  havys  Vvui  icni  to  niy 
%viie and  wii!  y;yii  bt  io  ki;ul  to  me  ?  God  reward  you 
yoe  nre  a  ten.lcrhcarted  inan  ;  jj/o^<r  cvyip-fjlm  has  fa-, 
vfci  ?ny  rfj,  and  nude  ine  quite  content.  Now  I  ihall 
go  quieciy  to  ilcep,  lliKC  1  know  tbit  my  wife  and 
chddren  will  )\0i  be  fretting  all  nighi:.  The  whole 
company  lelt  pieakd  with  John,  for  having  fbch  an 
ad^etion  for  Ins  tamily  ;  and  the  meal  ihey  returned  to 
feemed  Tweeter  than  ever. 

During  In.pper  time  the  Curate  fn-^ke  more  than 
iifua!,  and  rlncy  were  all  cheerful.  Is  it  not  ordered 
in  a  Wv>nderiully  wife  manner,  laid  he,  that  a  good 
man  always  grows  fad  when  he  fees  another  fad  ?— 
that  is  to  iav.  he  feels  compyihon.  It  is  no  doubt  trje 
that  compaiiion  renders  many  hours  unealy,  \viheh 
ydght  have  been  paded  pleaiantly,  if  we  were  not 
didrrbed  by  the  mdery  which  others  fuffer. — For  in- 
flanee,  v/e  ilionld  have  gone  on  quietly  withonr  meal, 
if  John\s  groans  had  not  affected  ns.  But  p'ty,  the 
coaipallionate  feeling  I  am  deferibing,  is  very  ufeful,  as 
it  impels  iis  to  alhit  onr  fafrering  feliow-creaturts. .  As 
loon  as  Charles  lelf  couipalhon,  he  ofFisred  to  give  up 
the  inoney  he  was  to  receive  till  Chrihnias  ;  but 
before  he  felt  this  emoiion,  he  did  not  think  of  it, — 
"^'inis  we  hud,  b}^  couipaihon  a  number  of  pcrlbns 
ha\  e  been  faved,  who  nf:ght  have  been  ioit,  if  others 
had  not  been  dihurbed  by  their  Ihfferings.  And 
when  vee  have  couhbrted  an  afiiicted  man,  we  pre  lb 
light,  fo  gay ,  that  every  pleaiure  has  a  liucr  rciiiii — as 
Von,  Charles,  now  find  that  ;q:)ple-pye  n..b — am  I  not 
right  ? 

Charles  fmiled,  andfaid,  that  is  very  trnc  ;  I  nevei* 
before  thought  my  fvipper  talted  fo  good — aunl  Vvhcn 
J  think  that  John  will  ionn  be  well — I  am  fo  gla^I  !  — 

Good  Charles,  continued  the  Curate,  aiv»  ays  ccr- 


M  O  II  A  L  I  T  y. 


67 


eife  yoin*  compallion,  inftead  of  trying  to  ftifl©  it  for 
prefent  cafe.  If  in  future  you  fee  a  man  in  diitrefsor 
pain,  and  }  oi.r  mind  is  troubled,  do  not  iboa  try  to 
overcome  this  angiiilh  of  heart ;  hut  rather  iaiagiae 
yourfelf  in  the  place  of  the  fuft'erer,  and  think  what 
vou  llipuid  feci  if  you  ^vere  in  the  fame  iituatlon. — 
Then  woidd  your  heart  foo  11  tell  you  what  you  ought 
to  cb  ;  and  pity  would  procure  you  jiian/  iuch  pleaiant 
moments  as  you  now  enjoy. 


CHAPTER  Xlil. 


THE  Curate  would  have  continued  the  converfa- 
tioa,  if  he  had  not  been  interrupied  by  the  maid, 
V.  no  whifpered  foiritihing  in  his  ear.  How?,  alked 
tlie  Curate,  will  he  not  conie,  though  I  have  fo  ear- 
ueitly  invited  him  ?  I  did  not  beiieye  that  there  had 
been  in  the  world  a  man  with  fuch  an  hard  unfeehnj 
heart. — Well,  if  he  will  uo;:  come  to  me,  I  will  go  to 
h:ni. 

^  He  rofe  haiTily,  took  his  ftick,  and  w^as  going  out 
— jut  tile  company  feemed  dduirbed,  and  itoppcd  him 
to  a^k  w  hat  difagreeable  accident  had  happeaetL  I  beg 
yo'-r  pardon  for  leaving  you  a  few  moments;  I  am  rui- 
eafy,  but  I  hope  that  1  lhali  foon  return  much  eaiier. 
He  then  went  out,  and  left  them  uuable  to  guefs  why 
he  v.ent  fo.abrupt'y. 

The  caale  was  this ;  his  eldei\  brother,  for  above 
half  a  yeai*.  had  not  behaved  to  him  like  a  brother, 
Ke  had  nor  written  to  him  as  uiual ;  nay,  wjien  the 
Curare  wrote  tvi  himv  he  did  not  aapNyer  his  letter, 
and  he  had  palTcd  three-tlmei  tlirough  the  village  and 
jie^.  er  viiitedhim.  Now  tids  evening  the  Curate  had 
heard  fEomthe  C^.srgeon  that  his  brother  was  there,  and 
inteiifi^  to  ilecp  at  the  inn  ;  he  taerefore  fcnt  his 
cvaid  priva:eiy  to  entreat  him  to  fpcnd  the  evuiing  at 


68 


L  E  M  E  ,N  T  S  OF 


his  houfe  ;  but  he  rudely  anfwered,  that  he  would  not 
€ome.    The  Curate  then  went  to  him. 

When  he  opened  tlie  rooiiv  door,  he  faw  his  bro- 
ther in  deep  thought,  walking, backwards  and  forwards 
with  hafcy  Itrides  andfrightfrl  geftures.  lie  ih^od  iWW 
at  the  door  a  few  njovueucs,  till  he  was  perceived  by 
his  brother,  wlio,  tiirniug  fiercely  on  him,  aiked  him 
what  he  wanted  ? 

Curate.    1  9j.n  come  to  vilit  you,. 
Broiler.    Did  1  inyice  yo.-.  ? 

Curats.  l\o  indeed  ;  but  i  think  it  would  not  have 
beea  right  to  have  had  a  brother,  who  once  loved  me, 
a'id  whom  1  liiil  lovr,  lb  near  me,  and  not  to  have 
called  to  fee  him.  i  invited  you,  v/hy  did  you  not 
come  ? 

Brother..  Unworthy,  hypocritical  man — do  you 
afk  why  > 

Curat  J.  I  do ;  nay,  I  afk  fTill  more — v^hy  have 
you  paifed  thr^'e  cliues  through  my  village,  and  have 
not  viiued  me? 

Brother.    Do  you  wilh  to  know  ?' 
Cur  {He.    Certainly  I  \vi(h  it,  and  I  fnail  not  leave 
ycu  be  tore  you  have  told  n:e. 

Brother.    Know  it  then — /  hate  you  I 
Car^te.    Hate  me  ! 

Brctber.  Snail  I  fay  it  again  ?  I  hate — I  deteft 
you. 

Ci:rjte.    AvA  ''ou  do  not  v;iih  me  any  good  ? 
B:--:-hr.  v.)/ 

C:r-jtr^,     N^y^.  i^erhaps  you  ^^i^h  Ibme  iiilsibrLU 
may  befal  n-e  ? 

B'-cn.er,  I  hc:::{\\v  wifti  that  no  good  my  ever- 
rca::!  \  j-,,  a:vi    ,  ).  r  •-•ckcd  v/ile  ] 

L-r;;;;  :t,       c  c::re  I  God  hears 
:  y..  I  A  .:i  rho.         I   -  in  v      hecrr  ag-unit  me, 

\<\io  ha'/c  (jy  2T  hcc:i  an  :;::c^f:r..ate  crot^ier — and  .L- 
g  a  i  n  i  t  my  in n o c e t  \>' ;v; 

Broi'jtrr.    Yes,  becarue  you  .-re  iir-  bro'.ner  ; 
ArriUTfr  had  Inr-.n.d  me,  it  v»ouid  nof  have  hurt  mei 


M  O  Fx  A  L  I  T  Y.  69 

Curate.    I  injiircu  you  I — How  ? 

.Brother,    I  riipi-ole  you  willi  to  excufe  yoiu-felf. 

Curate.  No,  not  to  excufe  luylelf  :  but  to  kao\t 
vliat  I  have  done. 

Brother.  Is  it  not  to  you  that  I  owe— T  tremble 
with  rage  when  I  think  of  your  wickednefs  1  I  can- 
not go  on. 

Curate.    What  wickednefs  ? 

Bi^other.  Is  it  not  wickednefs  to  fcparate  a  brother 
from  his  promifed  wife  ? 

Curate.  What,  to  whom  were  you  attached  ? — I 
cannot  guefs  what  you  mean  to  fay. 

Brother.  Did  you  not  know  that  I  wiihed  to  mar- 
ry yo'jr  wife's  lilter  ? 

Curate.    No,  I  knew  nothing  of  it. 

Brother.  Did  you  not  know  that  ihe  was  inclined 
to  con  fen  t 

Curate.    I  knew  nothing  of  the  matter. 

Brother.  Do  you  not  know  that  you  have  prejii* 
diced. her  againilme,  and  perfuaded  her  to  marry  ancj* 
ther  } 

Curate    All  this  is  news  to  me. 

Brother.  Now  this  is  contemptible  I  firft  to  injura^ 
jiie,  and  then  to  have  the  infolence  to  deny  it. 

Curate.  But,  dear  brother,  did  I  ever  injure  you 
before  } 

Brother.  Never. 

Curate.  How^  can  you  then  believe  that  I  lliould 
fi.ddenly  become  fuch  a  hypocritical  wretch  ^ 

Bi  other.  It  v.'as  with  great  diiiicuity  that  I  conki 
believe  you  fo  v.  icked,  but  the  whole -conduct  of  your 
^iiler-in-law  gave  rife  to  my  fufpicion  againlt  3'ou. 

Cun^e.  And  what  was  there  in  her  conduct  to 
give  rife  to  it  ? 

Brother.  I  gave  her  to  underftand  that  I  wiihed  to 
hiarry  her;  (he  heard  me  fo  mildly,  and  promifed  in 
fuch  a  foft  tone  of  voice  to  give  me  ibon  a  final  anf\N  er, 
that  I  hraily  believed  Oie  would  accept  of  my  offered 
baud.  Soon  atrer  Ihe  had  fpent  a  fhort  time  at  your 
Jioufe,  and  Vvlic^*:  Ihe  retLirned  ihe  fent  me  an  abfolut© 


70 


ELEMENTS  OF 


refofaU  and  married  Mr.  Roberts.  What  co\^h\  I  then 
li'.ppole,  but  that  iiie  went  to  alk  yoiu'  advice,  and 
you  advifcd  Ir  r^o  ;!i;!r  •  vo  r  virnd  Roberts,  whom 
you  ever  ho'  i  than  me? 

Curate.     \  \  ...ci,.  : _  v  r^j  ^/Fopolsl  ? 

Brother.    Towards  chv  f  February',  i 

Luraie,    But  whar  VT  I  cocia  ^uc>ve  to  you  that  ftic 
was  Ci2 gaged  to  ?vlr.  Roberts  the  t^rre^oing  year  ? 

Brother.    I  wilhed  1  €Oi-;ld  fee  that  proved  I  ' 

Curate.    You  Ihall  iuon  fee  it.-" ^ 

Saying  To,  theCurate  haftily  left  the  roorim  a'nd  re-- 
turncd  iii  a  fc-A  mimiirs  with  a  leccer,  which  his  filler 
in  iavv  had  wrir-eii  io  .'•ioi  the  Novenibi  r  of  the  pre-- 
ceding  year  ;  iij  ?  r  :  riv   :  co  him  that  Ihe 

was  engaged  to     .  ,  '  ;  .  .  ■:.    he  wiihed  that  it 

liiight  liill  rei^iam  a  Je-vr*^:  -.iiiie  lofvger.  '  The  an- 
gry man  read  this  letter  ice  ever,  and  itood  motion- 
leisafew  ini]iiUes.  as  if  he  had  been  thunder-ilruck, 
then  balmily  exriai:i:!;d — is  it  puliirdc  I  have  I  been  iQ' 
virsjuft,  and  i\:f!3ect^:i  v:;ii  wuhout  a  caule  ? 

Curate.    You  •      '       ^tis—  ' 

Brother.    Ill-,     .  .    reu  you,  my  brocher. — Ho^j 
could  I  harb;'!.'r  inch  vile  fufpicions — belt  of  men 
faying  fo  iie  timidly'  took  his  hand.     Pray  forgive  me  ;. 
I  will  never  again,  while  I  Uvt,  iadulge  luch  unjuft'l 
fuggellions,    'r :  \ 

Curate.  *.:fWith  his  eyes  full  of  tears)  What  a  hap-  j 
py  hour  is  this,  in  which  I  again  find  my  brother  1.1 

Brother.    Good  brother,  I  au:i  futhciently  puniflied^l 
Sidpicioii  and  hatred  are  terrible  things — they  havel 
contiiiissliy  tormented  me.-   Sufpicion    produced  ha.-j 
tred  ;  becaufe  I  believed  ill   of  you,  I  vvdihed  ill  tdi 
happen  to  you.    Since  that  time  1  have  not  had  a"" 
coiitciUcd  hour.    ifi^boi'giiL  of  yoa,  if  I  only  read 
your  name,  I  fcit  my  heart  beat  quick,  I  trembled^ 
and,  forgive  me,  fulrered  curfes  to  efc?pe  from  my' 
lips.    I  was  iil-humoured,  and  rude  to  the  people  a-t 
])0iu  me.    At  night  I  had  no  reft,  and  if  I  did  ilrimb-r,: 
in  my  dreams  I  quair(<icd-  witii  you.    O  how  my- 
heart  uied  foraieriy  to  tiirob  with  joy,  v/hen  from  the: 


Pvl  O  II  A  L  I  T  Y-  7t 

bill  I  law  your  village  ;  and  Iiow  I  fpurred  my  horfe 
on  quickly  to  be  witk  yon. — But  ilnce  the  time  I  ha- 
ted von,  I  havegnaihed  my  teeth  when  I  difcovered 
this  iittle  village  ;  and  the  nights  1  paiied  at  the  inn 
■t».' ere  always  dreadfid  tome,  jih^  h^jw  unhafpy  is  the 
man  "jiho  hates  another  1 

Curate..  Come,  let  us  forget  all.  my  brother;  and, 
from  this  hour,  have  no  ujcre  unquiet  nights  from 
hatred. 

The  violent  man  now  looked  mild,  and  accepting 
■his  brother's  invitation,  accompanied  him  to  his 
houfe. 

Mr.  Jones  and  his  wife  were  very  deGrous  :j  know 
vhat  bad  dil^urbed  the  Curate,  and  where  he  was 
jgone  ;  an.d  a  look  of  anxiety,  which  they  obferved  on. 
Mrs.  Benfon's  countenance,  made  them  ftiii  more  cu- 
^•ious.  While  they  were  endeavouring  to  ccnverfe 
about  indifferent  things,  the  Curate  entered  v/ith  his 
ibrother,  whom  they  did  not  know  ;  now,  thougp-t 
tjiey,  the  whole  miilery  will  be  cleared  up. 

What  is  it  you,  dear  brother  ?  cried  out  Mrs.  Ben- 
fon  :  Is  it  you  v/ho  come  to  us  again  v,  ith  inch  an 
affeclionate  friendly  look  .'^  what  a  happy  day,  added 
fne,  tenderly  preifing  his  hand.  Then  ihe  ran  to 
bring  hl[n  fome  refrelhment,  while  the  children  ex- 
prciied  their  joy.  They  clung  about  him,  crying  dear 
nncle  '  dear  uncle  I  or^e  brought  a  night  cap,  another 
his  ilippers,  and  the  little  Caroline  brought  out  of  the  - 
clofet  part  of  the  cake  which  Mrs.  Jones  had  given 
her,  and  thruft  it  into  his  hand.  The  uncie  wa^  de- 
lighted when  he  fa w  how  eagerly  the  hole  family 
teltified  the  pleafnre  his  return  gave  them.  It  is  af- 
fection which  renders  us  happy ,  he  exclaimed;  if  we 
Itve  ethers^  they  luill  love  us  in  return  ;  I  (houid  have 
njiiied  ail  this  pleafnre,  if  I  ftill  folkred  hatred  againll 
my  i>rother. 

Mr,  Jones  begged  him  to  explain  v  hat  he  meant 
by  thefe  hints.  May  I  relate  it  ?  ailved  the  Curate, 
looking  at  his  brother.  O  yes,  anfwered  he  ;  but  I 
ihould  like  better  to  relate  it  myfelf.    And  he  began 


72  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

to  relate  the  whole  mirimderftancring  ;  how  he  had 
firll  nouriiiied  iufpicions  againll  his  brother,  and  af- 
terwards hated  hhn  ;  what  lad  days  and  miferable 
nights  he  had  paffed  fmce,  and  how  comfortable  he 
now  found  himfelf,  becaufe  love  had  taken  the  place 
of  hatred. 

During  this  relation,  time  ran  away  wlthovit  their 
perceiving  it.  They  wonld  have  remained  itill  longer 
together;  but  yM\.  as  Mr.  Jones  was  beginning  to 
give  them  another  example  of  a  man  of  his  acquaint- 
ance, who,  by  norilhing  hatred,  had  deprived  him- 
felf of  all  his  comforts,  the  clock  Ih'uck  twelve,  and 
they  recolledcd  that  it  was  full  time  to  go  to  reii 


CHAPTER  XIV, 


TH  E  whole  family  rofe  very  early,  and  as  foon  -  ' 
as  they  weredreffed  they  went  to  John's  room,  ^ 
to  enquire  how  he  found  himfelf  ?  Very  well,  anfv;er- 
ed  he  ;  I  was  in  great  pain  till  long  after  midnight,  and 
could  not  dole  my  eyes  ;  but  about  two  o'clock  I  fell 
afleep,  and  I  cannot  defcribe  hov>'  comfortable  I  found 
that  iieep.    All  my  pain  left  me  ;  and  now  I  am  awake, 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  new  born.    Yes^  fl^^P     a  charming 
thing  !  it  frees  us  from  all  care  and  pain,  and  gives  us  \\ 
new  llrengrh  and  vigour.    He  that  fleeps  well  has  \ 
always  reafon  to  be  thankful  ;  I  never  felt,  till  now,  | 
its  full  value  !  In  future,  when  any  one  wilhes  me  a  i 
goodnight,  I  fhall  thank  them  with  all  my  heart;  and  | 
if  I  have  had  ^  good  night,  I  Ihall  not  complain  if  I  am  i 
obliged  to  work  hard  in  the  day.    What  a  lhame  it  is 
that  men  live  who  abufe  lleep  ;  for  when  we  ileep  too 
long,  we  are  indolent  the  whole  day  :  I  often  think  of  ' 
Madam,  whom  I  have  been  coachman  to  thefe  four 
years  ;  Ihe  lleeps,  as  true  as  I   aiH  here,  almoR  tea 
hours  on  tiie  ilretch  ;  and  when  Ihe  rifes,  Ihe  finds  i 
nothing  right  j  the  fervants  are  fcolded  all  round  ;  and  -| 

I 


MORALITY, 


73 


fne  has  often  called  me  a  blockhead  when  I  have  tO'd 
her  that  my  oats  were  out.  Sleep  appears  to  me  like 
beans  and  bacon  ;  if  we  eat  moderately,  we  are  flrengta- 
ened  ;  but  if  we  are  gluttons,  bad  humours  break  out, 
and  we  are  heavy  and  idle;  fo  that,  in  the  uhole 
world,  nothing  appears  right. 

While  the  company  converfed  with  John,  they 
heard  a  noife  in  Henry's  room.  Ke  went  to  bed  /;rlt, 
and  by  fleeping  an  hour  longer  than  tiie  red  of  the 
family,  became  fo  Ihipld  and  hea\'y,  that  he  was  at- 
tacked by  a  certain  diforder  called  ill-hnmrAir.  It  is 
a  very  difiigreeabie  one ;  and,  in  the  morning,  ariies 
from  that  kind  of  lluggilh  ftupidity,  which  men  fe-ei 
when  they  have  liept  longer  than  nature  requires. 
Thofe  who  are  under  the  iofiuence  of  this  dilorder, 
expeci  that  every  thing  ihould  be  direded  by  their 
whims;  and  if  the  lealt  trifle  goes  contrary  to  their 
fooliih  humour,  they  murmur  and  fcold,  though  they 
want  nothing.  All  the  family  felt  the  good  eitecls  of 
flee p  as  well  as  John,  and  were  cheeifully  preparing 
to  diicharge  the  duties  of  tlie  day,  except  Henry  ;  but 
his  ill-humour,  which  arofe  from  indulging  him- 
felf  too  long  in  bed,  till  he  grew  ftupid  and  lick,  made 
him  very  uncomfortable  to  himfelf,  and  troubleiouie 
to  others. 

While  he  was  in  bed,  a  poor  boy  brought  a  quail 
to  fell ;  and  George,  who  loved  his  brother  and  fliter, 
bought  it  for  Henry.  He  h  d  the  bird  under  his 
coat,  and  crep  into  Henry's  room.  O,  good  morn- 
i:ig,  good  morning,  Mr.  Lie-a-bed,  faki  he,  yen  have 
aimoit  loll  your  breakfafl:.  Hold  your  tongue,  cried 
he  out  peevilhly  ;  why  did  you  not  wake  me  ?  you 
Vv  ere  very  ill-natured  ;  you  let  me  fleep  on  purpofe 
that  you  might  play  alone  with  Charles.  You 
do  not  knov/  what  you  are  talking  about,  interrupted 
George.  1  have  called  you  above  ten  time^,  and  you 
would  not  get  up  ;  it  is  hard  to  fcold  me  for  your  own 
lazinefs.  Then  Henry  grew  flill  more  ill-humoured, 
and  called  out,  mother,  mother  ! — his  mother  ran. 
quickly^  almoil  afraid  that  fome  accident  had  happen- 


74 


ELEMENTS  OF 


ed  to  him,  and  aflved  him  w  hat  he  wanted  ?  George 
langhs  at  me  ;  he  called  me  a  lie-a-bed  ;  yet,  he  never 
waked  me.  But  the  mother  loon  perceived  that  George 
was  innocent,  and  that  Henry  was  lliipid  and  out  of 
humour  ;  lb  llie  bade  him  rile  quickly,  and  Ipcak  in  a 
kind  manner  to  his  brother  ;  roufe  yourfeif,  my  child, 
added  liie,  or  you  will  Ipend  an  indolent  uncomforta- 
ble tkiy. 

Mean  time  George  flipped  out  of  the  room  with  his 
.quail.  Onthelbirshe  happened  to  meet  Caroline  ; 
.that  affecti<3nate  girl  began  to  i'mile  vv'hen  flie  faw  him  ; 
he  killed  her,  and  faid,  guefs  what  I  have  under  niy 
coat.  The  little  girl  thought  ii  Nv.'is  a  cake  or  an  ap- 
ple; but  George  laid  it  was  ibmething  alive.  Is  it  a 
frog,  2  {parrow,  or  a  little  dog  ?  alked  flie.  He  then 
let  the  head  peep  out,  and  llie  began  to  jump  for  joy 
when  he  told  her  that  jhe  ihouid  have  it,  becaufe  ihe 
was  not  out  of  humour,  like  Henry.  She  ran  to  her 
jiuother,  and  told  her  how  good  George  had  been  to 
her.  Henry  law  her  with  her  bird,  and  longed 
for  it  ;  but  Caroline  did  not  mind  him,  or  his  angry 
Jooks. 

Scarcely  had  the  tender  mother  reached  the  bottom 
ofthelhiirs,  when  Ihe  heard  Henry  call  out  again, 
ujother  :  mother  ! 

Mrs.  Benfon,  who  at  firlt  had  fpoken  kindly  to  him, 
was  now  difpleafed  ;  flie  returned,  and  when  ihe  o- 
pened  the  door,  Henry  faw  that  flie  had  no  longer  a 
fmiiing  face.  She  frowned,  andalTced,  what  do  you 
want  now?  naughty  boy  !  niy  half-boots  are  not 
here,  anfwered  he,  weeping  ;  I  mult  have  my  half- 
boots. — They  are  at  the  cobi-er's,  you  muft  put  on  your 
ihoes  to-day  ;  lb  faying,  ilie  left  the  room,  left  the 
foo'iih  child  fitting  on  the  fide  of  his  bed;  and  there 
Le  lat  weeping  as  bitterly  as  if  ibme  great  misfortune 
had  happened  to  him. 

B^.:  in  the  parlour  was  nothing  but  cheerfulnefs  ; 
the  gu  1^;:  were  trcatei  with  coiiee  for  breakfiiil: ;  and, 
bivvaiile  ic  was  a  holiday,  the  children  had  each  a  cup 
of  colfeep  and  three  pieces  of  white  bread  and  butter. 


MORALITY. 


75 


Ii  is  true,  poor  Henry  had  none  ;  for  he  hau  neicher 
waihed  his  face,  nor  combed  his  hair. 

A  niiRiber  of  little  ainv-img  itories  were  told,  and 
they  rJi  joked  and  laughed.  George  and  Carohne 
brought  out  all  their  pictures  and  playthings,  which 
were  admired  by  all  the  guelt.  But  when  they 
collected  them  to  put  them  by— they  w  ere  iiirprized, 
and  aiked,  in  a  tone  of  joy,  what  is  this?  where  dlil 
that  come  from  !  for  Mrs.  Jonc,  had,  unpercei\  cd  by 
them,  flipped  fome  pretty  pictures  among  their  ow  n. 
Poor  Henry  I  had  he  been  tlicre,  he  woiild  certainly 
have  had  fome  of  th©fe  pretty  pitftures^ 

The  company  then  prepared  to  go- in  the  coach  to  a 
neighbouring  wood,  and  pafs  the  morning  there.  Ant 
I  to  go  ?  am  I  to  go?  ailced  George  and  Caroline,-  and 
their  mother  looked  at  them  with  uich  a  fmiling  face, 
^that  they  foon  perceivcvl  Ihe  did  not  intend  to  leave 
them  at  home.  \Vhat  pleaUire  did  they  not  promife 
themfelv  es?  they  killed  their  mother,  and  jumped  for 
joy.  The  horfes  were  quickly  brought  out  of  the  Ihi- 
bie  ai^  harncired  J  and  when  all  but  the  children  had 
feated  themfelves  in  the  coach,  George  miiled  Henry. 
Is  not  Henry  to  go?  alked  he,  addreihng  his  mother 
ki  a  Ibrrowful  totie.  If  he  is  ready,  let  him  come,  an- 
f\\  ered  file." 

Tlien  George  fprang  up  ftairs  to  tell  his  brother  ; 
but  he  was  diiappointed  in  his  good-natured  hope — 
there  he  Itill  fat  on  the  fide  of  the  bed  fcratching  his 
head — he  had  not  yet  drawn  on  his  itockings,  and  be- 
caufc  he  could  not  have  his  half-boots  he  would  not 
put  on  his  clothes.  George  foon  favr  that  it  would  be 
vain  to  w  ai't  for  him,  for  he  knew  his  mother  would 
not  detain  the  carriage,  till  an  ill-humoured  boy  was 
dreifed ;  he  therefore  returned  directly,  got  into  the 
coach,  and  oif  it  drove. 

When  Henry  heard  the  rolling  of  the  coach,  and 
learned  that  the  v-hole  company  were  gone  to  take  an 
airing,  and  had  left  him  behind ;  he  cried  bitterly, 
Itamped  w  ith  his  feet,  ahd  beha\  ed  like  a  foolifh  child. 

ho  knows  what  he  might  have  done,  if  an  old  nurfe 


76  ELEMENTS  OF 


had  not  broiiglis:  hliii  to  himfelf  ?  She  advifed  him  to 
put  on  h;3  clotheb  directly,  and  follow  the  company, 
to  beg  hisfaiher  arid  niother  to  forj^ive  him,  and  per- 
haps, a-jtied  ihc.^  they  may  permit  you  to  partake  of 
their  plea  1 1  re. 

Aicci-  ft-nc  rooLning  and  encor.ragement,  he  refolv-  | 
ed  CO  tuilow  her  advue  ;  he  then  ran  acrofs  the  lields  j 
a-.id  met  the  carriage,  b  .t  not  before  he  was  tired  and  ^ 
o  jt  of  breath,    ilts  father  and  mother  did  not  receive  J 
lii  n  with  tlicir  accuilonied  kindnefs  ;  nay,  he  was  oh-  i 
Jigcd  to        \  to  a  very  fevere  reproof  f(^r  his  obitina-  } 
cy  ;  biiL  vSiQi'  he  had  h-ainbly  acknowietiged  his  fault,  :j 
a-.'d  prom  lied  to  behave  better  fc^r  the  future,  they  al-  1 
](v-,ved  hun  to  iray  with  the  company.    If  he  had  kept  t 
his  woid,  he  miglu  Itiii  have  Ciijoyed  much  pleafr.re  ;  -j 
bnt  he  looQ  let  them  fee  that  he  had  not  yet  concpjered  j 
his  lU  hnn^oLir.  1 
Georjje  propofed  a  play  in  which  they  all  might  en-  \ 
gage  ;  they  iixed  on  one  called  the  Hunter,  and  the  open  , 
down  before  the  wood  was  a  fine  place  for  it.  But 
lienry  found  no  pleafure  in  this  game,  he  infiiled  on 
their  playing  at  bhnd- mail's  bufF.    The  little  company  • 
tried  to  convince  him  that  he  was  very  unrealonable  to 
cxpc'ft  them  all  to  do  j  nil  what  he  pleafed,  but  he  heed- 
ed theiD  not. — And  wiien  they  faw  that  he  v/ouid  not 
p'jrl\\e  them,  they  tried  to  coax  him,  till  be  tiirned 
rndely  from  then);  then  they  began  to  play  without 
him.    Charles  was  the  hunter,  George  the  dog,  and 
Caroline  the  hare.    CUarles  began  the  chace,  crying- 
out  feveral  times  leveret,  hide  thyfelf — the  dog  is  com- 
ing to  felze  thee  ! — clofe  ! — clofe  !  The  leveret  exerted 
alT  her  powers  to  efcape  from  the  dog,  and  when  it 
ca.ne  near,  p.retended  to  cry*  like  a  hare  ;  at  lait  Ihe 
was  caught,  and  they  all  bisrrt  out  into  a  loud  laugh.  i 

Henry  favy  with  much  vexa^.on  their  coannon  joy; 
he  v/as  tired  of  himfelf  and  his  ill-humour;  yet 
he  was  fo  Ibjbborn  and  foolifli,  that  he  would  not  make 
one  in  their  party.  He  imagined  that  Charles  or 
George  would  again  invite  him  to  play  with  them,  and 
he  wouki  giadh/Tiave  excepted  of  the  invitation  ;  but 
they  tho^rh;  of  no  fuch  thing: — none  of  them  preilcd 


MORALITY. 


a  little  obllinate  boy  who  had  been  fo  loiio-  out  of  hii- 
mo'.ir  to  join  in  their  phjy.  Then  he  direw  hiinielf, 
full  of  ibrrow,  under  a  tree,  and  lamented  his  folly  : 
— I  am  very  uncomfortable— unhappy  has  my  ill- 
hwyvAir  muds  ms  1  It  has  to-day  already  deprived  me 
of  the  quail  my  brother  bought  for  me,  and  my  break- 
fait — befides,  1  have  ofFended  my  parents,  and  the 
flrairverb  looked  black  on  me — ho-w  much  pleafure  have 
1  loft  by  ill- humour  1  No  one  wiihes  to  have  .  any 
thing  to  do  with  me,  though  I  now  am  forry ;  oh,  I 
wdll  Taever  again  be  fo  foolifli  I  V/hiift  he  was  thus  be- 
moaning bimfelf,  his  father  paifed  by  with  Mrs.  Jones, 
who  had*  hold  of  his  arm:  and  as  foon  as  he  obfervcd- 
Heary,  he  went  up  to  him,  and  alked  what  was  the 
matter  with  him  ?  Why  he  did  not  make  one  in  the- 
play  vvith  his  brother  and  fnTer  ?  He  was  alhaxned  to 
ar.f-.ver,  ^i:rned  his  face  ?,way ,  and  held  his  han^ls  before 
his  eyes.  Vv  hatiiave  you  done  }  faid  the  father  again. 
Speak — I  am  aihamed  of  myfcif,  anfsvered  he,  I  cannot 
tell  it.  Yoy  are  aihamed,  replied  the  mther,  you  are 
afraid  of  my  reproofs,  you  have  done  fomething  wrong. 
For  thoft  vxho  f^el  Jharnt  alivays  know  that  they  have 
' dcn^  fomd thing  -dji-^if:^.  Speak,  what  is  it  ?  Then  he  re- 
lated, Ihedding  naany  tears,  how  fooliihly  and  iU-hu- 
moured  he  had  behaved  all  day,  and  how  much  trou- 
ble he  had  brougut  on  himfeif. 

The  father  pitied  him :  but  defired  him  at  the  fame 
time  to  try  to  govern  his  temper,  and  be  for  the  future 
a  good  boy,  then  he  would  no  more  feel  that  kind  of 
liiame  w  hich  made  him  afraid  to  look  his  father  in  the 
face.  Do  yo.i,  continued  he,  ilill  dcilre  to  play  w  itli 
your  companions?  Very  inuch,  aniwered  he,  only  I 
am  afraid  they  will  now  refufeto  play  with  me.  You 
do  not  deferve  indeed  a.  kind  reception,  faid  the  father  ; 
biit  if  you  v/iih  to  be  more  focibl^,  if  you  will- try  to 
give  up  your  own  will  to  others,  come  with  me,  I  will 
intercede  for  you.  Then  Henry  wiped  av/ay  his  tears,, 
and  taking  hold  of  his  father's  hand,  went  with  do wn- 
cail  eyes  to  join  his  play-feilows.  They  received  him 
gUdiv,  when  their  father  affured  thenu.  that  for  the 

I  .  / 


75  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

fiit'.u'c,  lie  wonki  no  more  ceafe  tlicin  through  his  ill- 
huino  ;r. 

He  joisicxl  them,  and  cliey  went  to  pby  ao^ain  with 
fi-eth  pleaiure,  now  tliey  liad  bolh  a  hare  and  a  leveret 
)  lumt. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R  XV. 


Y"      E  N  R-  Y  made  a  fine  hare,  and  was  fo  nhnble, 
;^      that:  he  fpniiig  through  the  buihes,  and  they 
c  iiiiiiic  h;:n  with  diuicidty  after  he  had  advanced  far  in- 
t.)  tilC  v.  ood. 

Biic  hy  this  chance  they  made  a  dlfco very  y/hich  they 
r yolced  at.  They  cariie  fiiddenly  on  four  fnie  health}'" 
]oo'ari->;  boys,  who  were  playing  with  a  ball.  They 
w  ere  the  ions  of  the  forefter,  who  lived  not  far  from- 
thence.  i""hc  hr.ntf  nan,  do^  and  hares,  were  fo  pleaf- 
cd  Vv'itli  this  ddco very,  that  they  ceafed  playing,  to 
look  at  the  fl^'liig  ball,  Vvdiith  thefe  hey-,  threw  from 
one  to  another.  'I'  ts,  it  fcemed  as  if  tliey  were  ail  at 
once  tired  of  hnntiiig,  and  v.'illied  to  b-egin  to  play  at 
bad.  Nay,  Hen^vy  faid  alond,  if  I  had  my  bail  here^ 
^ve  miglil  aUb  play  at  ball.  Scarcely  had  Henry  faid  i\ 
when  o;;c  of  the  boys  ca:ne  np  to  them,  and  faid,  if  you 
wi'h  for  a  ball,  v/ait  a- n-ionient,  and  1  will  run  to  the 
houfe  and  bring  you  one;  and  all  the  reil  faid,  O  yes^ 
run  quickly  an.d  bring  it. 

Away  lie  ran,  but  ocfore  he  conld  come  back,  one 
e!'his  brother,  odercd  to  lend  them  bis  ball  till  he  re- 
turned. The  chilfh'ei'  ref ided,  becanfe  they  felt  thatthey- 
fiitght  r;ot  to  ("''n-n  b  tfieir  pleafnre  to  amufe  themfelves. 

Bvit  they  conrin.ied  toprefs  thera,  till  they  ail  agreed 
ro  play  together.  This  aiibrded  them  ncv/  pleailire: 
fome  {truck  the  ball  in  the  air,  aKd  others  received  it  as 
ir.  fell.  Nay,  they  were  quite  deHghted  wd^ien  Charles, 
Vv/ho  V.  as  very  expert  at  the  game,  made  the  ball  rife 
li'rrron  ontcf  lightj  and  when  George  ran  to  catch  it^ 


MORALITY. 


79 


as  it  was  falling  at  a  great  dlftance  from  the  place  it 
was  throne  from.  They  were  fo  amufed,  that  they 
did  not  think  of  returning  to  their  parents  ;  bat  play- 
ed one  game  after  another. 

Who  knows  how  much  longer  they  m'ght  have 
played,  if  the  Ci.rate  had  not  called  them  lie  came 
lip  to  them,  and  delired  them  to  comeback,  becaufe 
Mr.  Jones  thought  it  time  to  proceed  on  his  joi  rney. 
Seeing  the  ball  they  were  playing  with,  he  enqi  ired 
where  they  had  found  it,  or  wlio  gave  it  to  them  ? 
One  of  thel'e  good-natured  boys,  anfwered  George, 
we  are  playing  with.  You  cannot  think  how  good- 
natured  they  \\  ere  5  as  foon  as  Henry  wili.ed  for  a  ball, 
one  of  them  ran  to  their  houfe  tor  it,  and  another  lent 
us  his,  that  we  inigiit  not  be  tired  with  waiting.  And 
did  this  civil  behaviour  pi  cafe  you  ?  afked  h?.  Very 
much,  cried  they  all ;  how  we  wifh  that  we  could  do 
fomething  to  pieafe  them-  I  too  am  glad,  continued 
ihe.Curate,  to  meet  with  fuch  good  children  ;  pray  afli 
them  to  walk  ivith  us,  that  my  wife  and  giseits  may 
fee  them.  It  wa&not  necefTary  to  Ipeak  twice;  they 
ran  to  their  new  friends,  and  led  tiiem  a  little  ip^atnit 
their  Will  forward  to  the  comj-'any. 

The  Utile  boys  .blulhed  at  being  praifed  for  doing 
what  their  father  4iad  always  told  them  to  do,  and 
what  he  always  did  himfeif;  for  a  beggar  never -arme 
thro^:gh  the  torelt  w-iihout  receiving  a  dice  of  bread, 
and  a  draught  of  fmall  beer.  He  ufcd  to  fay  to  his  boys, 
that  a  child  who  did  not  give  part  of  his  play-things  to 
another,  ihould  be  left  to  play  alone — and  what  child 
can  hud  pleafnre  in  playing  alone  ?  One  day  they  had 
qv»arrelled  about  a  kite;  each  would  infift  that  it 
bodosged  to  him.  The  father  gave  them  four  kites, 
which  they  v/ere  to  call  their  own,  but  as  they  were 
lo  unfaciable,  he  would  not  allow  them  to  play  toge- 
ther, and  what  pleafure  was  there  in  looking  at  a  kite, 
though  it  mounted  almoit  to  the  clouds,  when  '■hey 
could  not  call  out  fee  !  fee  i  how^  high  the  kite  flies  1 
In  a  few  days  they  begged  their  father  to  take  back 
three  of  the  kites,  and  let  them  play  together.    It  was 


E  L  i:  M  E.  N  T  S  OF 


the  fa?-ne  thing  wkh  their  tops,  m-'.r'jlss,  kc.  there  was 
iio  amaiem^nc  i'l  playiii-^  Wiih  lUi^ni  alone,  and  when- 
ever thty  qiian  elicJ,  tiivjir -athi  r  n  ry  punifhed  thcin, 
by  iiiakino^  the  ieliilh  hoy  play  m  :\  iiide  yard  by  him- 
feif. 

Afcer  the  coriipaiiy  liad  alked  liie  boys  fevera]  fiLiefli- 
ons,  to  wliich  they  gave  modcR  aai'vvers,  -the  Curate 
faid  to  his  children,  next  Monday  you  know  you.  are 
to  have  a  little  feaf",  aker  all  the  cherries  arc  gathered, 
and  would  you  lot  wi!h  for  more  co'^ii)  :  7  ?  Yes,  in- 
,  deed,  anl'weied  George;  may  1  allv  tlic::  -;;od  bcs  10 
conje  ?  The  father  nodded,  and  lie  turned  to  them — 
yes,  pray  eonie  next  Monday;  we  ihali  Ir.e  very  hao- 
py  together  ;  I  v^^iil  Ihew  yo^t  my  garden,  and  you 
lhall  eat  fonie  of  the  peare  ori^my  own  tree.  Yes.  yes, 
cried  Henry  and  Caroline,  catching  hold  of  their 
hands,  you  niuit  promlie  to  come  and  fee  all  oar  gar- 
dens and  birds.  They  faid  that  they  would  very  glad- 
ly come,  but  they  mud  alk  their  fatlier's  leave  before 
tliey  promifed.  You  are  very  right,  faid  the  Curate, 
for  a  good  chiid  ought  never  to  promife  to  go  out  with- 
out the  conienc  of  his  parents;  but  I  v>'iii  call  myfelf 
on  your  father,  and  afk  him  to  give  you  leave. 

Mrs.  Benibn  had  brought  a  balket  of  fruit  with  her 
to  regale  her  gueils  with  ;  Ihe  now.  fet  it  before  tliem, 
and  ga^  e,  as  may  be  fuppofed,  a  fufficieiU  quantity  to 
the  civil  chddren.  Mrs-J'-ines,  who  always  had  fome- 
tuing  in  her  pocket  for  goc'd  children,  felt  for  a  little 
parcel — what  could  it  be,  wrapped  up  in  paper?  She 
opened  it,  and  let  them  fee  fome  pret'cy  pictures,  very,., 
pretty  piclures,  of  lions,  tigers,  and  many  other  an- 
imals :  ll>e 'iivided  them,  amongit  the  foreiter's  fv^ns,. 
who  at  hrlt  relided  to  accept  of  theiii;  but  Mrs.  Jones 
prelfed  them,  faying,  take  thefj  pidures,  good,  well- 
behaved  children  :  one  civility  ii^/drves  an'jther. 

Now  came  tiie  moment  when  the  company  mufl  fe- 
parate  ;  the  ieurtration  was  painful  to  them  ail.  W^hen.. 
they  firit  met  tuey  were  civil  to  each  other,  becaufe 
it  is  right  to  fiew  civility  to  every  body  ;  but  when 
they  became  acquainted^  they  began  to  love  as  friends^,. 


MORALITY. 


8t 


and  wiiiied  to  have  remained  longer  together.  Brt 
Mr.  Jones  had  ibine  iiiiportant  bulmels -wnich  required 
his  prefence,  and  he  was  obliged  to  take  iea\'e  of  the 
family  ;  he  did  it  in  the  moi\  aitectio.^ate  manner  ;  and 
lhaking  the  Curate's  hand,  with  a  look  of  regard  amd 
refpect,  put  five  guineas  into  it  for  John's  ufe,  which 
the  Curate  allured  him  was  more  than  fuincient  to  pay 
the  lurgeon :  Mr.  Jones  then  deiired  him  to  iec  John 
have  the  red  in  his  pocket  when  he  returned  to  his  fa- 
mily ;  and,  ftepping  into  the  coach,  they  v^  ere  fooa 
out  of  light  ;  mean  while  the  Curate  and  his  family 
"turned  into  the  foot  path  which  led  to  their  houie. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


ON  the  road  Mr.  Jones  obferved,  with  afFedion^ 
ace  intereft,  the  plentiful  harvei\,  and  the  cheer- 
ful looks  of  the  reapers.  He  admired,  fometimes,  the 
abundance  of  ears  which  grew  from  a  few  grams  of 
corn;  fometimes,  the  indulfry  of  the  country  people  ia 
"cutting  it  down,  making  it  up  into  fneaves,  and  carry- 
ing it  into  their  hams.  He  was  fo  charmed  with  tho 
view,  that  he  could  not  reaiain  any  longer  in  the  coach  ; 
he  (lopped  it,  and  after  he  had  handed  out  his  wife  and 
fon,  deiired  the  coachman  to  follow  them  fiowiy. 

They  could,  now  they  were  on  foot,  obferve  all  the 
objects  far  better  than  when  they  whirled  by  them  ia 
a  carriage;  and  tliey  were  altonilhed  to  fee  that  many 
men  might  receive  nourilhment  from  a  fmgle  field  of 
wheat ;  and  that  not  only  m«n  obtained  a  fubfiitence 
from  it,  but  likewife  a  number  of  birds,  beetles,  grai- 
hoppers  and  field-mice  :  this  aiforded  matter  for  con- 
•^l^erlation  on  various  fubjecls. 

Charles  remarked  that  the  grain  did  not  appear  equal- 
ly fine  in  all  the  fields.  In  Ibme  the  ears  ilood  thick 
and  llrong,  like  a  wood ;  in  others  it  appeared  thin  • 
and,  in  ieverai,  v^as  fo  mixed  with  weeds,  that  they 


82 


ELEMENTS  OF 


could  fcarcely  perceive  that  any  had  been  fown. 
Charles  could  not  conceive  the  reaibii  of  it :  the  fields, 
thought  he,  have  all  the  lame  foil;  the  blades  grow  pp 
near  each  r-dicr,  expofed  to  the  fame  weather;  from 
V,  hence  co-.ne-.  thi^  diifereiKe  ?  He  mentioned  to  his 
faLiier  chib  rcnrirk,  an^Talked  v/hat  coidd  be  the  reafon. 
Had  v/e  not  better  eLiqiiire  of  a  countryman?  moft 
people  know  fomethiniT  of  their  own  bufuiefs,  faid  he^ 
and  L  fee  one  yonder  with  fuch  an  honed:  countenance 
as  makes  me  hope  that  he  will  readily  anfwer  our  qnefti- 
ons. 

^They  went  up  to  him,  bowed,  and  alked  why  there 
xvas  fuch  a  g:reat  diifcrence  in  the  crops  ?  They  added, 
that  they  had  feen  many  fields  fo  fruitful  that  they 
charmed  their  eyes  ;  and  others  almoin  covered  with 
thiftles  and  \veeds.  Yes,  yes,  replied  the  peafant, 
fmiling,  thefe  were  certainly  my  .  neighbour  Brov^  n 's 
fields;  he  has  always  on  his  ground  traih,  not  worth 
carrying  home.  But  how  can  it  be  other  wife  ?  \\' hen 
I  and  other  farmers  have  been  at  work  lome  hours, 
{)lowing  or  hoenig,  he  is  itill  flooring  in  bed.  \¥hen 
our  corn  is  almoil:  m  the  ear,  he  is  fowing  his  feed  ;  and 
when  our  afcer-grafs  is  fit  for  mowing,  he  is  only 
bringing  home-his  firll  loads  of  hay.  There  he  comes, 
there  becomes  I  yon  will  foon  fee,  by  his  drefs  and 
gait,  what  ibrt  of  a  man  he  is. 

They  turned,  and  favv^  coming  towards  them  ahorfe. 
drawing  a  cart  ;  but  it.  was  fuch  a  forry  poor  crea- 
ture, it  could  fcarcely  put  one  foot  before  the  other.. 
Upon  him  flit  Brown,  with,  a  tattci'ed  coat  loofely? 
wrapped  round  him-,  and  his  hat  was  fo  old  and  dirty, 
that  it  would  not  have  been  eafy  to-  guefs  of  what 
colour  it.  had  been..  His  hair  v^as  uncombed,  and 
the  feathers  which  came  out  of  a  loft  bed,  were  Ihick 
in  it  ;  his  face  was  covered  with  red  blotches,  and 
he  fat  in  fuch  an  indolent  ,ni.anner,  as  if  he  were 
fcarcely  awake,  or  ready  to  fail  aileep  again.  They 
expreiled  their  furprize,  and  Charles  d.eclared  that  he 
(hould  not  ha\  c  believed  that  there  were  fuch  idle- 
people  ia  the  v/orid,  if  he  had  not  feen  it  with  his 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


own  eyes.  Yes,  continued  the  honert  countryman 
the  maftej  refembles  the  fields,  the  horfe  the  mafter,' 
the  houTe  the  horfe  ;  the  kitchen,  -flee ping -rooms, 
dairy,  fartn-yard  and  barn — all  are  alike.  He  never 
takes  the  trouble  to  drive  a  fnigle  rrail  ;  and  when  a 
^lick  lies  in  his  way  in  the  road,  he  will  Itumble  ten 
I  times  over  it  before  he  vvill  Itop  to  pick  it  up.^ — But 
i  as  he  makes  his  bed,  fo  he  mui\  lie  in  it  : — the  fields 
I  produce,  every  year,  lels  and  lefs  ;  the  hoiife  will 
!  fall  down,  and  the  horfe  be  unable  ro  drag  the  crazy- 
cart  any  lon^^er — and  at  lalt  he  will  be  obiio;ed  to 
beg.  Though  he  indulges  himfeif  thus,  he  is  nevef 
content;  nay,  fo  long  as  I  have  known  him,  I  have 
Rever  feen  him  once  lauo-h  ;  and  he  has  convinced 
ine,  that  an  idle  man  wiii  never  he  content.  Where- 
ver he  looks,  he  fees  ^vork  that  he  has  left  undone  :  he 
fees  his  property  going  to  the  dogs,  whicii  always 
i  puts  him  out  of  humour  ;  and  by  deeping  too  much, 
and  fitting  ftill,  his  blood  grows  thick,  and  his  limbs 
are  ftitf  and  heavy  :  how  can  fuch  a  man  be  in  a  good 
humour?  I,  for  my  part,  aught  to  praife  work;  for 
I  am  never  fo  happy  as  when  I  have  fomething  to 
do  ;  I  have  then  no  dull  hours  ;  and  when  I  walk 
over  the  ground  I  have  turned  up  Vv'ith  the  fweat  of 
my  brow,  and  fee  my  corn  waving-^my  very  heart 
leaps  for  joy.  You  are  right,  my  good  friend,  faid 
Mr.  Jones ;  do  not  forget  this  experience  ;  ftand 
firm  to  your  plough,  be  induitrious,  aiid  not  only  a 
!  good  harvefl  will  be  the  reward  of  your  labour,  but 
you  will  have  health  and  cheerfulnefs  whill\  looking 
forward  to  it,  and  doing  your  duty  in  the  ftation  in 
which  God  has  placed  you. 

Saying  fo,  they  left  him  ;  and  the  coachman  tel- 
ling them,  a  fecond  time,  that  if  they  wenton  at  this 
fate,  they  Ihould  not  get  home  before  midnight,  they 
got  into  the  coach  again.  He  fmacked  his  whip — and 
away  they  went  full  drive. 

Charles  was  forry  when  they  got  into  the  carriage 
['again,  becaafc  he  could  not  here  lialf  fo  well  enjoy  the 
'  fight  of  the  beautiful  fields  as  when  they  were  walking. 


84  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

He  leaned  on  the  coach  door,  to  look  as  far  as  his 
eye  could  reach ;  and,  as  the  coach  whirled  along 
very  quick,  it  appeared  to  him  as  if  the  llicaves,  trees,  a 
fields  and  villages,  palled  by  him  ;  and  thefe   moving  ] 
pidurespleafed  him.  ] 
But   his    mother  called  to  him  ;  child,  child,  iit' 
dovv-n.    He  fat  down,  but  afi<.ed  why  mult  I   fit  ? 
When  I  amfeated,  I  cannot  iee  half  lb  well  the  fvveet 
fieltls,  and  the  other  fine  things,  as  when  I  Itand  up 
and  lean  on  the  door.    You  mult,  laid  Mr.  Jones, 
aKvays  obey,  when  1  or  your  mother  defire  you  to 
dp  anything,  if  you  cannot  guefs  why  v/e  bid  yoa 
doit;  for  we  are  oldsr  than  you,  and  mull  know 
better    what  will  be  iifeful  or  hurtful  to  you.  Ai] 
you  grow  up  and  acquire  more  fenfc,  by  attending;; 
to  o  .r  inllr.sclion,  and  obferying  Vv'hat  men  do,  you^ 
^vili  know  the  nacure  of  things  yourlelf ;  and  in-' 
ftead  of  commanding  I   fiiall  reafoii  with  you.  At* 
prefent,  you  mull  truft  us,  when  we  tell  you  that  a| 
thing  is  not  good  for  you.    But  if  you  wilh  to  knowj 
^vhy  your  moclier  refufed  to  let  you  lean  on  the  door,  ■ 
1  will  explain  it  to    you,  becaufe  it  is  not  above  ^ 
your  underhanding.    Obferve,  that  the   door  only  | 
Ihi.ts  with  an  iron  fpring  ;  but  much  jolting  on 
rough  road  may — VVhllil  he  was  faying  fo,  tiie  car- 
riage palled  over  a  rough  if  on  y  place,  which  gave  it 
fucli  a  jolt,  that  Charles  was  thrown  forward  into 
his  mother's  arms,  the  dooron  wdiich  he  had  leaned 
flew  open,  and  Mr.  Jones'  cane  fell  out.    The  coach-  ,[ 
man  was  obliged  to  Hop  ;  Mr.  Jones  got  out,  and  ' 
Charles  follow  ed  him,  and  there  lay  the  beautiful  cane 
fnapi:cd  in  two  ;  the    wheel  had    palled  over  it. 
Charlci.  t^.ri'ed  pale  when  he  faw  it,  and  all  his  limbs 
treiiib'ed,  he  c  a' -ght  his  father's  hand — O  my  dear  fa- 
ther, fjid  iie,  fro.u  what  a  dreadful  accident  has  my 
good  moihcr  faved  me  I  if  Ihe  had  not  warned  me,  or  i 
if  I  had  i-ot  oi.cycd  her  before  I  knew  the  reafon,  I'"! 
ilio-Ki  li;'ve  fallen  oat  of  the  coach,  and  the  wheel 
wo-iid  have  go  le  over  my  head,  arms  or  legs. — Yes, 
dear  lacherj  /V/)ik  I  live^  I  -will  never  difobey  you. 


MORALITY. 


85 


He  fprang  into  the  coach,  embraced  his  niothcr,  and 
proniifed,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  nevertobe  difobdient. 
They  were  all  fo  atteded  by  this  accident,  that  they 
fat  feme  time  without  Ipeakin^  a  wor 


CHAPTER  XVJL 


THEY  might  hvixe  remained  much  longer  in 
this  ftate,  if  their  filence  had  not  been  inter- 
rupted by  a  new  and  unexpeded  accident.  As  the 
coach  mounted  i4owly  up  a  hill,  Mr.  Jones  obferved  a 
man  very  fhabbily  dreiTed  walking  before  it.  He  Ihook 
his  head,  and  faid,  I  know  that  man,  yet  cannot  now 
recoiled  where  I  have  feen  him.  1  hope  it  is  not 
« — no,  impoflible  !  it  cannot  be- — he  was  a  very  rich 
man.  The  coach  now  overtook  him  ;  the  man  flop- 
ped, and  made  Mr.  Jones  an  humble  bow.  What 
dol  fee  ?  cried  Mr.  Jones.  It  is  he  !  it  is  he  !  Hop, 
Nicholas  ! 

The  coachman  flopped  ;  Mr.  Jones  got  out  of  the 
carriage,  and  allowed  Charles  to  follow  him. 

Are  you  not,  allied  Mr.  Jones,  Mr.  Noel,  whom  I 
knew  in  London  about  twenty  years  ago.^ 

Mr.  Noel,  (lighed)  Yes,  I  am  he.  And  you — 
I  fho.dd  know  you  ; — are  you — are  you  not  Mr. 
Jones  } 

Mr.  Jones.  Right,  I  am  he.  But,  my  old  friend, 
yoM  feem  to  be  in  a  diftreiied  Hate.  Have  you  been 
unfortunate  }  Have  you  loil  yor.r  fortune  at  fea  ;  or 
Jhas  a  fire  confumed  your  fubitance  } 

Mr.  Nod.    Alas  !  no 

Mr.  Jonss.  Have  thieves  or  lharpers  plundered 
you  } 

Mr.  Nod.    No,  no. 

Mr.  Jones.    Or  h.ivc  you  loft  all  by  a  law-fuit  > 
Mr.  Jones.    Nothing  of  all  this.    It  I  coi^ld  attri'- 
bute  my  mlfery  to  any  of  thofe  caufes,  1  Ihouid  AtH 

H 


86 


ELEMENTS  OF 


find  To  me  conjfort  ;  but  I  caanot— I  myfelf  am  the 
Cciule  :  all  my  railery  comes  from  my  own  folly.  Fro- 
digality  has  made  me  poor, 
Mr.  Tories.    Prodigality  ? 

Mr.  Noel.  Yes,  prodigality.  My  father  left  roc 
forty  thoufand  pounds.  1  married  a  wife  who  brou^rht 
me  twenty  thoaland  more  :  hut  we  neither  of  us  knew 
how  diiiicuk  it  is  to  acquire  money,  and  how  eafy  to 
ipend  it.  We  did  not  believe  that  it  was  pollible  tp 
-diiiipate  fi-ch  a  large  fortune,  and  paid  little  attention 
to  the  expences  of  our  family,  or  the  management  of 
ourhoufe.  Every  thing  tiut  pleafed  us  we  purchaled. 
My  w  ife  followed  every  nevv' faOiion,  and  I  wore  the 
inoit  extravagant  clothes.  As  foon  as  a  drefs  was  a 
little  out  of  falhion,  or  v/orn  by  the  common  people, 
M-e  gave  it  away.  Oi;r  own  countrymen  could  not 
make  fiirniture  to  pleafe  us  ;  we  lent  to  Paris  for  a 
number  of  ufeleis  things.  V/ e  drank  the  moft  coliiy 
\vii>,es.  had  ihe  dearelt  dainties,^  a  few  weeks  before 
our  neighbours,  who  had  more  prudeiice  ;  went  to  a-^ 
tac  piibiic  ani-  fements,  and  had  continually  large  card- 
par  l.c?.  -It  liome  ;  in  fliort,  wc  had  a  fij'endid  equipage. 
1  h  \n  ieen  a  noble  pleafnre  ground  belonging  to  a 
Duke  ;  the  fooliHi  idea  of  turnmg  my  meadows  into 
fuch  a  one  came  into  my  Iiead.  J  expended,  in  this 
manner,  twenty  thoufand  pounds  of  the  principal, 
belides  the  i'ltercit  of  the  whole.  At  the  end  of  five 
years,  I  rerniu-ked  that  this  extra\'a-ant  way  of  li\'ing 
€!)  iki  not  iait  long,  becaufe  I  had  already  waked  more 
than  half  my  fortune.  I  vnentioned  our  circumkance 
to  my  wife;  b  trnefaid,,  that  we  co  dd  not  retrench 
0'.  r  iijanitsu  of  li  v  ing  without  appearing  mean  la  the 
eyes  of  aii  Gi;r  acq'iainra  ICC.    We  had  a  large  ei'tate 

•  •         o  '  :  r,     ^m^le,  who  could  not  live  long  ; 

u'.rcd  his  fortvme,  we  could  very 
^.^ .  u, .   v.'y  \-.  e  had  done  ever 

1:  .  .  ^,  uiv'felf  to  be  perfuaded : 

my  e— )c.i  e  a,v.     b  excte.  -  u  -.  i^.e,  cind  mok 

par:  or  dir  u  \r  u  '  rchaiuu  .  .\  l'..pijrik.itie.-> :  thr.s 
Cud  A  airo  uy  '  fortune  and  piimge  myieif  ia 


M  O  p.  A  L  I  T  Y. 


«7 


debt,  always  hoping  that  my  iinrle  would  loon  die. 
He,  however,  itill  lived,  atid  my  debts  increa fed  every 
year,  till  ch^y  amounted  to  iVch  a  confiderabierum,  that 
vvhea  he  did  die  at  lalh  his  noble  leo^acy  (for,  on  ac- 
count of  my  extravagance,  he  left  the  elhue  to  a  dl- 
i\^nt  relation,  of  whom  he  had  a  better  opinion)  was- 
not  liiaHcient  to  fa tisfy  my  creditors  ;  they  now  grew 
impcrtunare,  f  ifpicion  wa£  roufed,  and  tliey  leized  my 
honie,  furniture,  garden  and  clorhes,  In  Ihort,  all  I 
had  left— -but  all  was  not  fufficient  to  clear  me,  fo  I 
was  fent  to  prifon.  My  wife  could  not  long  endnre 
This  mifery  ;  for  having^  been  accuftomed,  from  her 
infancy,  to  live  a  life  of  indolent  cafe,  and  to  follow 
i'einih  pleafures,  Ihe  had  not  fufilcient  lU'ength  of  mind 
to  bear  up  againft  poverty  ;  it  appeared  fo  frightful  to 
her,  that  in  a  few  weeks  grief  brov:ght  her  lo  her 
grave.  And  I — if  I  had  died  wirh  her,  what  mifery 
inould  I  have  efcaped  !  I  fnould  hot  have  feen  the 
contempt  which  my  old  acquaintance  have  Ihewn  me. 
Here  he  fighed  bitterly — and  his  voice  v/as  choaked  by 
his  groans. 

Mr.  Jonfs.  I  pity  yon  ;  yet  cannot  conceive  how 
you  could  have  acted  fo  inconlideiateiy.  When  you 
law*  that  you  exceeded  your  income  one  ^^ear,  why- 
did  you  not  live  within  bounds  the  next  .^^  For  if  yon 
had  thought  a  moment,  the  confcqucnce  mr.lt  have  oc« 
curred  to  von — you  muft  have  forefeen  your  ruin. 

Mr.  N-jsI,  You  are  in  rhe  right — you  think  like  a 
reafonable  man  ;  but  I  ?.ncl  iny  v.  ife  were  fpoilt  in  our 
yauth.  As  our  parents  were  rich,  we  obtained  from 
then:  all  we  defu-c-vi — yes,  more  than  we  defired.  Vv^e 
ta:  every  day  a  dinner  fii.ch  as  children  Ihould  never 
partake  ;  one  coune  followed  another  ;  we  wore  the 
inoii  cxperHive  clotiies  ;  and  when  we  wilhed  to  pay  a 
'  iiit,  two  nne  hcrfes  were  liarneiTed  to  the  coaeli  to 
irry  i:s  in  ft.ite.  Thus  from  our  infancy  we  lived  a 
rooliili  life  ;  and  as  we  had  not  acquired  any  ufeful 
knowledge,  when  v/e  grew  up  we  couki  not  turn  to 
r  ore  rational  purfuits  ;  we  had  not  Itrength  enough 
o  praJiife  virtue,  nor  fenfe  to  leek  for  knowledge  ; 


m 


ELEMENTS  OP 


and  our  flavery  to  vanity  was  fo  great,  that  we  could 
not  deny  ouri elves  any  thing  our  v/eak  minds  longed 
for. — How  happy  I  Ihould  now  be,  if  my  father  had 
been  a  day-labourer.  I  Ihouid  have  been  content  with 
homely  fare,  have  thankfully  eaten  a  cruft  of  brown 
bread,  drank  fmali  beer,  and  have  made  this  little 
journey  with  pleafure.  But,  dear  Mr.  Jones,  you 
cannot  fuppofe  how  Vv'ofiii,  how  hard  it  is,  to  fubmit^ 
when  a  man  in  his  youth  has  pampered  his  appetite, 
eaten  dainties,  drank  good  wine,  and  always  rode  in  a 
coath,  to  be  obliged  in  his  old  age  to  accuitom  himfelf 
to  miferable  food,  and  to  go  miles  on  foot. 

Pv'Ir.  Jones  was  atfcded  by  this  relation,  particularly 
as  he  faw  that  he  did  not  attempt  to  deceive  him,  but 
ov/ned  his  folly.  He  promifed  him  that  he  would  think 
cf  fome  way  to  help  him;  but  reqnefted  him,  without 
hy'mg  any  m.ore,  to  come  into  the  coach,  and  deep 
that  night  at  his  houfe.  Mr.  Noel  looked  ftedfallly 
on  him  with  forrowful  eyes,  while  a  bhilh  rofe  in  his 
cheeks,  and  faintly  afced,  if  he  would  net  be  aihamed 
to  fit  by  the  fide  of  a  begger  ? 

if  you  are  fmcerely  lorry  for  your  pafl  hfe,  and  in- 
tend to  begin  a  new  one,  I  fhaU  never  be  aihamed  of 
you — God  borbid  ! 

He  was  now  feated  In  the  carriage,  and  when  he 
had  a  litile  recovered  himielf,  recounted  many  more 
particulars  of  his  pail  life,  and  prefent  mifery  ;  and 
earneilly  adtireiUag  ?vlr.  Jones,  he  laid,  if  your  chil- 
dren are  dear  to  you,  do  not  let  them  live  a  life  of 
i.;rieaefs  and  Inxnry  I  Men  may  at  any  time,  whea 
they  acquire  a  lorcune,  enjoy  the  pleafures  of  life,  ac- 
cuitom themfelves  to  good  cheer,  and  v/ear  more  colfly 
clothes;  but  it  is  diiiiculr,  yes,  very  dilucult,  to  bring 
one's  felf  to  rtlilh  coarfe  food  after  wild-fowl  and  pal- 
try— to  fLrt)mit  to  vv'ear  dirty  rags,  or  even  coarfe 
clothes^  when  we  have  been  drefTed  in  fine  linen  every 
day. 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


89 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


BEFORE  they  Iiad  finifiiecl  this  conveiTation,  they 
reached  Briftoi.  Mary  had  been  along  time 
waiching  at  the  window,  waiticg  for  the  arri^'al  of 
her  dear  parents.  Now  ihe  difcovered  the  coach  ;  in 
a  moment  llie  was  on  thelteps,  anci  before  her  parents 
and  brother  got  into  the  door,  embraced  them  %veep- 
ing,  and  could  crJy  bring  out,  my  father  ]  niy  mo- 
ther I  liiy  brother  !  They  killed  her  very  tenderly  ! 
Chailes  broi:o;ht  her  fome  fruit  which  the  Curate  had 
gi\'en  him,  and  llie  received  it  %vith  pleafure. 

Mr.  Jones  coiidr.cled  poor  Mr.  Noel  to  a  room,  and 
begged  him  to  accept  of  a  coat  and  ibme  Unen  ;  then 
he  returned  to  his  parlour,  and  laid,  this  evening  I 
lhall  not  think  of  bulinef-. — I  Vv  iil  fpend  it  ^vith  my  fa- 
niily. 

He  afterwards  called  Mary  to  him,  and  began  care- 
fully to  enquire  how  Ihe  had  em^ployed  her  time  di-ir- 
ing  iheir  abfence.  She  then  related  ail ;  brought  dov/u 
the  bonnet  which  the  maid  had  walhed,  fiiewed  the 
w  ork  that  fne  had  done,  and  the  copies  Ijie  had  writ- 
ten ;  nay,  repeated  fome  liories  which  fhe  had  read, 
in  fuch  a  diftind  manner,  as  proved  that  ihe  had  paid 
attention  to  them  whillt  fne  was  reading. 

Mrs.  Jones  examined  Jier  work,  and  alked  if  fhe 
had  done  it  all  lierfelf.  No,  anfwered  ine,  my  coiUin 
did  the  left  feam  of  the  fhift,  w  hiilt  I  worked  at  the 
right.  But,  aiked  her  father,  ha\  e  yon  had  no  one 
to  vifit  you  ?  Yes,  Charlotte  has  been  to  fee  me,  and 
my  three  coufms,  and  I  w  ent  out  to  drink  tea  yeiierday 
\vi-,;h  m;,'  aunt. 

Mr.  Jones.    Has  any  thing  elfe  happened  ? 

Mary.  Be  not  angry  with  me^  do  not  frown^  I 
have  broken  fomethiug. 

Mr.  Jo?2^s.  Vv'hat 

H  3 


ELEMENTS  OF 


Mary.  When  my  covfins  were  here,  we  played  at 
briucl-inan's  buff;  and  when  I  was  blinded,  i  ran  a- 
gainft  the  clofet,  and  knocked  down  one  of  the  beil 
china  ciips. 

Mr.  Joiiifs.  Indeed  you  fnould  not  have  been  fo 
giddy  ;  but  you  Ihew  your  fenie  in  not  concealing  or 
denying  it. 

Dwring  this  converfacion,  Mary's  annt  entered, 
who  took  care  of  the  hoi.ie  while  they  were  abfent, 
Mrs.  Jones  enquired  how  her  little  charge  had  behav^- 
ed  ;  and  received  a  very  particidar  account,  which 
pcrfediv  agreed  with  the  one  they  had  juft  had  from 
Mary  hcriell\ 

Good  girl,  fald  Mr.  Jones,  you  might  have  told  us 
lies  ;  but  what  purpofe  would  it  ha-.  e  anfwered  }  \ve 
I'hould  foon  have  difcovefed  that  yon  toid  them,  and 
then  we  could  never  again  have  believed  what  you 
laid  ;  for  when  I  du'covered  that  a  child  or  fervant 
has  once  told  me  a  lie,  I  cannot  trui\  or  relped  them. 
B  it  you  have  related  every  thiiig  jui't  as  it  happened  ; 
you  have  fpoken  the  truth  ;  and  rnroj  I  fee  that  you  love  ^ 
tr^ith^  I  f/.hill  ahvays  1)1  future  believe  you.  Then  her  1 
lather  and  mother  killed  iier. 

While  they  were  expreilmg  the  pleafcre  they  felt  ,i 
in  findijig  that  they  could  conhde  in  their  daughter,  \ 
and  that  Ihe  would  tell:  truth,  though  fhe  expofed  her  \ 
own  faults,  they  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  j 
&  Aranger. — He  caught  Mr.  Jone^  by  the  hand  with  \ 
great  warmth,  and  faid,  how^  glad  I  am,  dear  Sir,  j 
that  after  fo  many  years  I  can  again  Hiake  your  friend-  .1 
}y  hand !  Mr.  Jones  was  not  a  little  furprized  by  the 
tendernefs  and  familiarity  of  a  clergyman,  who  was 
eu.tircly  unknown  to  him.    I  cannot  recollect,  faid  he, 
that  I  ever  had  the  lionoiir  of  knowing  yon.    No:  me 
laid  the  clergyman,  laughing;  d-o  you  not  remember 
little  jack,  who  ufed  to  lit  by  you  at  the  writing-rabie, 
at  fchool  }    Yes,  I  remember  him  well  anfwtred  I.ir, 
Jones ;  but — 

But  you  cannot  conceive,  intern^pted  the  clergy- 
tt^an,  how  the  poor  fon  of  a  taylor  ihould  have  ac» 


MORALITY. 


quired  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman  ?  To  be  frank, 
faid  Mr.  Jones,  it  does  r.;rpnze  me ;  and  I  am  very 
delirous  co  know  how  it  happened — pray  be  feated,  and 
fatisty  my  curiofity. 

He  feated  himieif  on  the  fopha,  and  related  with 
great  fpirlt  the  lingular  hntory  of  his  life.  You  know, 
faid  he,  that  after  my  father's  deaih,  my  godfather 
-took  me  home,  intending  to  have  rae  taught  a  mechani- 
cal trade:  but  before  he  conld  fix  on  a  malkr,  I  had 
been  fome  time  in  his  horde.  I  palled  great  part  of  my 
time  in  his  ftndy.  I  looked  into  many  books,  and 
when  I  found  one  that  pleated  n:ie,  I  read  it  through 
with  great  attention,  and  often  forgot  my  meals,  I 
was  fo  eager  to  go  on.  I  ufed  to  copy  the  molt  Arik- 
ing  palTages,  and  repeat  them  to  my  god-father.  iVIy 
desire  to  know  what  fhe  books  contained  wasfo  great, 
that  a  few  Lacin  words  did  not  frighten  me;  I  took  a 
Latin  dictlonaryj  and  was  at  the  trouble  to  hunt  after 
them  ;  and  when  I  could  not  find  them,  I  afked  my 
god-father.  That  worthy  man  finding  me  one  day  in 
his  (budy,  Ihnt  the  door,  and  alked  me  if  I  had  a  deUre 
tO' apply  my felf  to  learning.  1  replied,  that  I  had  in- 
deed a  very  Ifrong  deiire,  but  he  knew  my  fituation, 
and  that  as  1  \\  as  indebted  to  his  boanty  for  every  thing, 
I  mulf  be  directed  by  him.  ^V^ell,  faid  he,  I  will  try 
you  for  a  twelvemonth  ;  and  if  you  are  diligent,  I  will 
lend  you  to  a  fchool.  I  do  not  know  what  I  faid,  I 
was  fo  pleafed  ;  I  alTared  him  that  I  wuuld  willingly 
go  without  a  coat  to  learn  Laris. 

He  delayed  not,  but  next  day  engaged  a  mafter  for 
me,  whom  I  every  day  attended.  He  was  a  good,  as 
well  as  a  learned  man,  and  was  fo  well  pleafed  with 
my  improvement,  that  he  prevailed  on  my  god-father 
to  let  me  remain  under  his  care  till  I  was  old  enough  to 
go  to  college.  Before  I  went,  I  IVudied  day  and  night 
1  knew  that  all  my  time  mult  be  employed  to  improve 
my  mind,  if  I  wiihed  to  becoaie  a  gentleaian.  I  liken- 
ed liiently  to  the  converlatton  of  old  men,  was  atten- 
tive to  my  mailer's  iniirudion,  and  never  began  one 
book  before  I  had  fiiiiihed  another.    My  maiter  had 


E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

more  pupils  ;  I  alFifted  to  te.ich  tliem  ;  and  when  I 
v  ent  to  college,  he  lO  warmly  recoiiimendcd  i-ic,  L.iat 
I  had  feveral  young  meii  placed  under  my  c.i^^  to 
whom  I  became  a  private  tutor;  which  I  v,  as  \ary 
glad  of,  becaiiie  I  did  not  wiih  to  draw  more  money 
from  my  kind  god-father  than  was  ahfolutely  neceffary. 
1  was'^refpeftcd  hy  the  fuperiors  in  the  college.  Bit 
not  to  tire  you,  from  being  chofeu  a  feUow,  1  became 
a  profeilbr,  a-  doclor  of  divinity;  and,  in  confequence 
of  fome  books  I  pnblilhed,  v.  hich  have  been  approved 
of,  I  obtained  a  confiderable  li\  ing. 

So  you  are,  then,  afkedlVlr.  Jones,  full  of  aO-onifii- 
nieKt,  a  doiSior  of  di-\"iiiity,  a  profc-ucjr,  and  have  a 
good  living?  I  now  perceive  that  my  op^inion  is  true, 
fiir  I  have  ahvays  thought  t/?at  a  good  undi-rftamling 
•was  better  than  riches.  I  have  now  in  my  houfe  a 
man,  who  was  once  worlh  near  an  hundred  thoufand 
pounds,  and  now  he  is  a  beggcrr.  And  you,  who  ne- 
ver had  a  farthing  frOiJi  vo.ir  p.irents,  have,  by  your 
luiderllanding  and  indiihry,  ac.^urcd  a  confiderable 
fortune,  and  relprdahle  rasik. 

1  am  entirely  of  yoiir  opinion,  replied  the  Doctor; 
if  in  their  yonch  niea  ciiltivaie  t)ic;r  i.nderilandings  and 
acquire  i^fcnd  knowledge,  they  lu.iy  afterwards  acquire 
a  fortune.  Brjt  if  v/e  v  ere  to  gain  all  the  wealth  of  the 
Indies,  it  would  jiot  purchase  underilanding.  And 
how  quickly  many  a  man  be  de  prived  ol  riches  ! — Fire, 
hiundations,  v/ars,  thieves,  luv.fuiis,  and  o:i]cr  n^iU- 
fortunes,  may  in  a  !i;ort  time  make  a  rich  man  poor.— 
Bat  if  my  houfe  ihordd  be  reduced  to  alhes,  and  all  my 
property  dcfh'oyed  by  ilorms,  my  cultivated  under- 
ita  r'ing  \..n;lJ  iiiii  rcnain  to  Q.o\rSxy;i  n:e,  and  enable 
x\w  Lo  ji\e —  that  no  one  can  roL  M^t  ofj  without  de- 
priving me  oivd't. 


MORALITY. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


WHILE  Mr.  Jones  was  converfing  with  the 
ProfeiTor,  Mrs.  Jones  went  into  die  dining 
parlour  to  make  fome  enquiries  about  the  flipper.  She 
had  already  given  her  orders  to  the  cook,  and  fhe  went 
now  to  fee  how  they  \^  ere  executed  ;  Ihe  found  howe- 
ver, every  thing  on  the  table  ihe  had  ordered,  except 
fome  prefer ved  cherries.  Why,  faid  ihe  to  the  cook, 
have  you  not  brought  the  preferv^ed  cherries  ? 

Preferved  cherries  !  preierved  cherries  !  I  did  not 
hear  you  order  any,  anfwered  Ihe,  with  a  face  as  red 
-as  fcarlet. 

jVIrs.  Jones  then  defired  her  to  bring  them  now,  and 
and  Betty  left  the  room,  but  not  returning,  Mrs, 
Jones  followed  her,  and  aiked  her  why  ihe  did  not 
bring  the  cherries?  There  are  none,  washer  anfwer. 
None  I  faid  ?vlrs.  Jones,  laft  week  the  jar  was  half  full, 
for  I  looked  into  it,  and  we  have  not  had  ailv  brought 
to  table  fince.  Betty  endeavoured  to  perfuade  her 
miltrefs  that  fhe  was  miitaken  ;  but  as  ihe  always  made 
a  point  of  looking  over  her  houihold  matters  in  a  regu- 
lar manner,  Ihe  was  fure  of  the  fact,  and  as  no  one 
"Went  to  the  ftore-room  but  Betty,  ilie  only  could  have 
emptied  the  jar.  Mrs.  Jones  now  faid,  with  a  firm 
tone  of  voice,  that  fhe  mul\  have  ftoien  the  cheries — • 
at  laif  Betty  owned  ihe  had  eaten  them. 

But,  faid  Mrs.  Jontshow^  could  you  be  fo  inconfide- 
rate  and  greedy,  when  you  want  for  nothing  ?  you 
have  a  part  of  every  tiling  that  comes  to  our  table— ^ 
why  did  you  take  what  did  not  belorg  to  you?  Now 
Betty  began  to  cry,  and  faid,  I  have  been  a  gVctton 
from  my  infancy.  Whenever  I  went  to  my  mother *8 
clofet,  I  took  an  apple  or  a  pear,  though  ilie  had  juft 
given  me  one,  and  if  fhe  feat  me  to  buy  any  fweet 
things,  I  tailed  them  before  I  brought  them  to  her,  I 


^4  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F        '  ^ 

became  by  degrees  fiich  a  glutton,  and  fo  fond  of  nicer' 
things,  that  1  ufed  to  eat  them  all  up  from  my  brothers- 
and  iillers,  who  never  let  me  partake  of  their  feaib^ 
becaufc  I  eat  my  one  cakes  aione.  Tiiis  habit  has  fol 
grown  upon  me,  that  when  I  fee  v  Cniug  nice,  t 
cannot  heip  eating  it  in  a  corner,  and  ca  :  t'U  I  am  hcki 
• — 1  eat  fo  many  of  thofe  chernes,  that  ni.rfe  t]ioiighc'|. 
I  Ihould  have  died  vvith  a  pain  in  my  ilomach  ;.  ihe] 
made  me  take  two  er  three  bafoiis  fail  of  chamomile'; 
tea;  and  I  have  hated  the  fight  of  preferved  cherries- 
e-ver  fince.— ^ray  forgive  me,  dear  mihreisj  whilit  I- 
live  I  will  never  do  it  again  I 

How  can  I  believe,  aanveved  Mr:,.  Jores,  that  it;^ 
will  not  happen  again,  when  yoj  iKivr.  ovvaed  thaty^ 
though  it  makes  you  lick,  yon  cannot  conquer  this  mean^: 
felfiiii  habit  ?  I  muit  have  fome  prciof  of  your  ajnend-^' 
nient  before  I  trail  you  again  ; — give  me  the  key  of 
the  i\GV'e-roQm^  for  ivhen  I  hiovj  that  a  jervayit  Is  a 
glutton^  1  dare  r:at  confide  ar'y  ihhig  to  her  care.  ] 

Betty  entreated  to  be  fo^gn  eii,  iheduing  many  tears/-' 
a  u'i  hopea  liiat  her  miitrefs  would  not  expofe  her  tov 
her  telle w-fer vaults  ;  for,  if  they  knew-'tbat  Ihe  was  a- 
glutton  ,  they  wov.ld  defpile  and  lai  gh  at  her.  I  know 
very  vvci-,  ai.iwered  Mrs.  Jo.ies,  that  gluttony  isve-j 
ry  diiW-acefui  j  but   is  it  my  fault  that  you  have  ac-j 
ci'iired  fuch  an  hateful  habit  r  1  have  once  or  twice 
re;  ro\  cd  you  gently  ;:  novr  iir  ce  you  have  not  lilxen-'i 
t- ;  lo  me,  I  mull  expofe  yor:  to  the  fdaiily,  to  fee  if; 
that  vv'ill  cure  you.    Nay,  the  pimples  on  yoiif  face" 
''-:':T.pofe  your  gluttony  ;  v/e  Ihouid  leiuoni  look  ugly,-^ 
or  be  obliged  to  take  nalty  medicines,  if  we  did  iiotl 
greedily  ov  erload  our  Itciuachs  ;  and  if  we  forget  onr| 
fluty  ill  private,  and  ciieat  oi.r  feilow-creatures  of  thdr  J 
Ihare,,  itisbutjufl  tliar  we  Hiould  be  hii.ghed  at  in| 
compi;iy,  and  called  v  hat  v/e  really  are^gluttors.  * 

Siie  wii,,  obligrd  immediately  to  deliver  up  the  key; 
and,  in  f'.'t^;re,  ivirs.  Jones  always  counted  out  what- 
ever Ihe  gave  her. 

This  difagreeable  accidental  diifurbcd  Mrs.  Jones  ;^ 
■nd  Ihe  was  obliged  to  Hop  a  n]oment,  to  faiooth  her' 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  y. 


95 


;lirow,  before  flie  went  to  fupper,  that  fhe  mi^Iit  not 
interrupt  the  pleafure  of  the  meal,  or  let  her  huiband 
,or  guei\s  fee  that  Die  had  been  diicompofed  by  her  fcr- 
-yanc. 

She  enquired  for  Mr.  Noel,  but  was  infornned  that 
•he  was  afhained  to  appear,  and  vvilhed  to  fup  in  his 
i.own  roonj.  Mr.  Jones  then  went  liimfelf  to  him,  and 
iiaid,  youliave  ah'eady  fpent  many  fad  evenings,  la-  *' 
I  jiienting  ovei*  your  folly  ;  come  now  and  partake  of  our 
j  frugal  meal  ;  it  will  neither  remind  you  of  your  former 
I  abundance,  nor  ypi.r  prefent  poverty. 

They  now  furrounded  the  table  ;  snd  Mary,  who 
.was  with  her  mother  when  Ihe  reproved  Betty,  deter- 
inined  not  to  eat  more  than  her  ihare  of  the  plumb- 
pye,  left  ihe  Ihould  aco^uire  a  habit  that  would  expofe 
her  to  lhame  and  ridicule,  befide  making  hex  fiek  and 

:  Ugly. 

The  PrpfeOTor  related  many  more  remajrkable  things 
which  had  happened  to  him  tince  he  law  Mr.  Jones, 
and  they  all  heard  him  with  attention,  particularly 
•  Mr.  Noel  ;  and  Vv'hen. he  was  informed  that  the  gen- 
teel man  before  him,  who  converfed  fo  fenfibly,  had 
been  a  taylor's  fon,  he  fighed  bitterly  at  the  recoU 
let  ton  of  hispwn  folly. — iighed  to  think  how  much 
money  had  been  thrown  away  on  his  education  ;  and 
how  foolilh  he  looked  in  the  prefence  of  a  learned 
man,  becaiife  he  had  negledted  to  acquire  knowledge, 
and  improve  his  under! tai.ding.  1  fee  plainly,  lai4 
he,  that  thoie  who  do  nodiing  but  play  and  amufe 
themfelves  ni  their  youth.,  w  ill  never  in  their  old  age 
:be  relpecled. 

V/hen  the  Profefior  was  going  to  take  leave  of  them, 
I  he  fmiied,  and  laid,  but  1  have  not  told  you  all  ;  I  am 
going  to  be  married  to  a  young  lady  who  lives  in  your 
;ieigabo  raood.    I  became  acquanued  with  her  v/hen 
ihr  iiurfea  her  fadier,  who  was  feveral  months  con- 
i  fined  to  h  s  room  at  Oxford.    1  found  her  a  lenfible 
;  good  girl,  who  knew  how  to  manage  a   houie,  and 
,Vv  as  not  fond  of  drefs  ;  Ihe  read  to  her  father,  and 
tau^^ht  her  two  younger  fdters  to  reaa^  write  and 


^6  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S   O  F  ^ 

work.  After  I  found  flie  had  an  affeilion  for  me,  I 
alked  her  father's  confent ;  he  readily  gave  ic,  but  we 
were  obliged  to  defer  our  marriage  till  I  obtained  my 
living.  Now  I  am  in  poireirion  of  it,  the  day  of  our 
marriage  is  fixed  ;  it  is  to  be  three  days  hence ;  and, 
as  I  wllh  to  have  a  jovial  day,  I  would  gladly  have  all 
my  friends  round  me  ;  and  you,  my  firlt  friend,  dear 
Mr.  Jones,  whom  1  loved  when  we  played  at  ball  to- 
gether, pray  come,  and  your  whole  family— you  muft 
not  refufe  me. 

That  the  invitation  was  agreeable  to  his  wife,  a 
lignificant  fmile  informed  Mr.  Jones  ;  fo,.  after  willi- 
ing  his  fchool -fellow  joy,  he  promifed  to  be  at  the  wed- 
ding ;  and  they  parted  yery  affedionately- 


CHAPTER  XX. 


MR  S.  Jones  was  not  fond  of  drefs  ;  flie  always 
drefl'ed  herfelf  and  her  children  in  a  neat  be- 
coming manner ;  but  was  never  eager  to  be  the  firlt  t 
adopt  a  newfalliion,  nor  did  llie  ever  wear  any  thing 
fingular  or  confpicious.  But  when  ihe  was  obliged  to 
appear  in  public,  or  to  pay  a  vifit,  like  the  prefent, 
flie  thought  it  decent  to  conform  a  little  more  in  her 
drefs  to  the  tafte  of  her  acquaintance;  and  this  was  not 
very  tronblefome,  as  Ihe  leldom  paid  formal  vifits,  or 
went  to  public  places,  except  now  and  then  when  fheat^ 
tended  fome  of  the  pi-bhc  breakfaft  at  the  Hot- wells. 

She  refleded.  the  following  morning,  how  Ihe  Ihould 
drefs  herfelf  and  he  children.  She  found  that  it  was 
not  neceffary  to  buy  many  new  things  ;  but  foon  per- 
ceived that  thofe  Ihe  had  required  coniiderable  akeraii- 
on. 

On  thefe  occafions  Mary  had  always  fome  employ- 
ment; now  Ihe  had  the  maiUn  to  hem  which  was  to- 
flounce  her  mother's  gown.  She  was  very  wdling  to 
do  it^  for  it  was  her  greateit  pieafure  to  obey  and  alFift 


MORALITY. 


♦7 


lier  mother  ;  but  when  fhe  faw  the  length  of  the 
flounce,  an  J  heard  that  it  mi  fl  be  finitiied  by  the  ne.vt 
day  at  noon,  llie  iLookher  head,  and  laid,  dear  ruo- 
ther,  it  is  inipoHible  ;  1  cannot,  in  fo  Ihort  a  lunc^  do 
«11  that.  I  will  tell  yoa,  fakl  the  mother,  how  you 
may  do  it  :  you  miiit  novv  wotk  coriliajciy.  and  not 
leave  oif  when  you  are  a  Ikdc  rired,  or  find  it  trv)j- 
blefome  ;  and  not  rife  from  yoi  r  leac  every  moment, 
to  run  here  and  there  ;  nay,  yo  i  muft  not  iook  abo.c 
every  minute,  but  pay  attCxit  on  to  yoi  r  woik  ;  ac  i 
both  to-day  and  to  n:>orro\v  morning  never  quii  i:, 
when  you  can  polhbiy  help  it- — and,  above  all,  think 
of  what  you  are  abut,  and  do  noc  begin  any  thingelie. 
Try  this  plan  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  fee  what  yoii 
can  dp—through  perfervance  u'f  may  do  many  things 
ivhich  we  thought  impofjihie.  Mary  laughed,  and 
faid,  I  will  fee  what  I  can  doi* 

During  this  converfation,  Mr.  Jones  was  thinking 
of  very  diiFercnt  matters.  He  thought  of  what  he 
Ihould  do  elfeclually  to  ferve  Mr.  Noel  ;  he  reflected 
fome  time,  and  at  lalt  came  to  a  refolution,  and  fent 
for  him 

He  came  with  a  very  humble,  fad  countenance^ 
and  almoil  trembled  ;  when  Mr.  Jones  called  hmi 
friend,  he  glanced  his  eyes  on  the  clothes  he  had 
received  from  him,  and  feemed  to  fay,  pardon  my  po- 
vertv. 

Air.  Jones.  Your  fituation  makes  mc  very  uneafy  ; 
be  alfiired  I  feel  for  you  ;  can  you  think  of  any  thing 
that  I  can  do  to  help  you. 

Mr.  Noel.  Help  me  !  help  me  I  would  to  God  it 
were  polFible  ;  but  I  fee  no  pollibiliLy. 

Mr.  Jones.  Indeed  it  is  nnpofiiDie  for  you  to  live 
in  the  expenfive  manner  you  did  formerly  ;  for  if  I 
were  to  give  you  my  whole  forcune,  it  would  Oiily  lail 
a  few  yeai*$;  and  after  that- you  would  be  as  poor  as 
you  aow  are. 

Mr.  Noel.  Oh.  do  not  kill  me.  Sir,  with  remarks 
on  my  unpardonable  folly  !  I  am  racked  when  1  think 
of  my  former  condiid,  and  heartily  ainamed  of  it  >  nay. 


9^  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F  . 


I  cannot  believe  that  1  iliO-ild  eve.'  return  to  my  for- 
mer excelies.  I  am  accnitoii-ed  co  plain  food,  and  con- 
tent v/itliit  ;  and  had  I  decent  clothes  of  my  oxu/z,  I 
Ihoidd  be  quite  fatisiied  v/ith  them.  • 

AI?-.  Jorr^s.  If  yoa  w  o- dd  be  feJtisiied  with  receiv- 
ing a  trifle  e\'ery  da  v,  1  coitld  aiibrd  to  lallow  it  yoiu 
But  cordd  you  refoive  to  hve  on  charily  ? 

jMr.No^l.  On  chanty  I — (here  his  voice faukered,  ' 
and  tears  riifiicd  into  bio  cye;v)— On  ciiarity  ! — e>vcr.fe  { 
me,  Sir  ;  what  an  i/if;  it  ii  is,  what  a  bitrrr  vii.orcifi-  • 
cation,  for  a  man  Vvho  h,:{d  ifom  h;.  fadicr  i';!-.  h  a  for- 
tune,  and  has  always  lived  hi  abiind.;::'  lo  live  on  i 
charity  I  . 

Mr.  Jo-'cs.  I  readily  brieve  ic  ;  b-c  how  ebb  cau  1 
I  help  yon  ?  Ha\'e  you  a  deiire  to  earn  a  ibbiiibcnce  ?  " 

Mr.  Noel,  Yes,  gladly-,  would  I  work,  do  any  '■ 
thing  to  ax'oid  livi:' ^u  M  .i'ms.  It  is  not  a  lhanie  for  an  j 
old  or  a  iiv-k  uuiv;  tc;  :b  .  c  an  alms  ;  but  I  have  heakh  j 
and  lirtno-th  :  how  c^n  1  iivc  on  charirv  v»  ithoi.t  ren^ 
dering  lu)  fclf  conieuiptiL'e  ?  Yet  how  can  I  earn  a  ^ 
fubfilience  ! — I  huvc  learned  no  trade.  I 

Mr.  Jones.    I  have  kcard  you  f|>eak  French — have 
yon  not  kari:ed  to  write  and  calt  accounts? 

IMr.  No:L  I  can  do  both  tolerably  ;  bviu  I  could 
r.ot  <veL  a  nh;ce  iii  London  ;  no  one  would  employ  an 
eutrrv;i^;i:ic  gentleman. 

M,  .    b  /rj-.    My  friend,  now  are  you  flill  dearer  to 
Hie  tluni  ever  you  were.    You  have  committed  a  great 
fauic  ;  but  you  are  an  honelt  man.    If  you  wifh  to 
work,  live  with  me.    1  will  daily  give  you  letters 
to  write  and  copy,  and  acco  nts  to-  keep;  and  allow  | 
you,  bciide  your  bread,  fib  y  pounds  a  year.    Be  care-  I 
ful,  and  if  \  oil  pmuffaalb/  and  orderly  attend  to  buli- 
nefs,  I  will  increafe  yo'ar  falary  ;  and  in  time,  when 
you  know  fomething  of  trade,  will  enable  you  to  be 
yo'.f  own  maker.    Yes,  if  I  fee  that  you  can  be  at- 
tentive ro  bubnefs,  and  learn  order  and  acconomy, 
I  do  not  defpair  of  feeing  you  a  refpedabie  merchant  t 
iome  year^  hence. 

Mr.  Nod,    If  you  would  do  fo/ and  enable  me  to 


...M-  O.  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


99 


jcarn-m^  ov/n  i?rcau,  you  v,-ould,  gocxl  Sir,  fave  r/«y 

Mr.  loms.  Accept  o!  ten  guineas  as  a  token  oi 
^riendiinp,  to  buy  you  ibnie  neceliarics,  cili  you  can 
jearn  tiieni. — \  an'i  not  gi^'ing  ^^'^  ulins,  Data  pledge  ot 
i;Vv-  rcgai-d. 

iS-c<f/.\vas  fp.toucliecl  with  this  ge.ieroiity  that 
lie  co\ifinot'Tittef"'a:-wom  ;  ac  iai\,  big  tears  foiled 
'do>vn  his.  d?.eeks,'  ,'aiid  ,  he  ey.ciaimeJ,  God  blel's  yoa 
•^d  your^taniily  :  God  has  tent  yoa  to  heal  a  penitent, 
'ainirit  broken  heart— he  wss  goingon,  caliinghiinhis 
'&nefaaor..aiicj  prelerver    but  Mr.  J  one.  ^^  t:  c  out, 
'fayiiigi  cdmpoie  yo\u-fe.lf--l  will  lend  your  d.n»icr  to 
■  :you5  and,      t^ea,  let  me  lee  you  become  one  of  my 
'iTcuVily-r-let  me  iiave  the  pleafure  of  feeing  you  grow 
virtuous  and  conteVfted. 

Going  out  he  rnet, his ife,  ^vho  tenderly  took  his 
.  .  and,  ^  and  told  him 'that  dinner  was  ready.    He  fol- 
lowed her,  fat  down,  eat  with  a  tolerable  appetite  ; 
but  fi?id. very  [iittile.    She  was  very  defirous  to  know 
\the  c^lifc  of  his  ilkrice.    She  afi.>:ed  him  many  C|Uei- 
tions  ;  yet^his  aniY  ers  did  not  fati&fy  her. 

After  the  cloth  was  taked  awav,  Ihe  rofe  and  faid, 
I  Vvill  fee  if  I  cannct  nihke  )  cu  talk.  Saying  fo,  ihe 
look  a  hall:  of  fine  v.nie,  which  her  mother  the  day 
before  had  made  her  a  prefeiit  of.  Here,  my  dear, 
filent  hufband,  faid  flie,  hero  is  fomething  to  untie 
your  tongue. 

She  poured  out  a  glafs,  he  took  it  with  a  finile,  and 
tahed  it. 

Well,  alked  flie,  is  it  good  ? 

Goovl  !  very  good,  my  dear,  anfwered  he;  but  I 
have  juft  tailed  fomething  nmch  fweeter  than  the  molt 
coltiy,  CKquihte  wine — :hc  pleafure  ariiing  from 
benevolence.  I  haye  to-day  p;:i  Mr.  Noel  to  the  teft, 
and  found  him  an  honeft  m.un  ;  and,  in  confequence 
of  this  conviction,  I  have  given  him  a  piace  in  niy 
compting  hovife,  and  have  promifed  him  a  faiary.  If 
he  appears  to  be  induhnous,  faiihful  and  orderly,  I 
hope  in  a  few  years  to  take  him  into  partnerfiiip,  or  put 


JOS 


ELEMENTS  OF 


lu'-ifVlfin  a  way  of  trade  for  hinife]i\    If  you  had  but 
{:-ciihLb  gratit.  de  ;  he  wept,  he  prayed  God  to  blels 
iiie  e.f,d  iiry  lansily — my  Nviie,  mychddreii  ;  faying  fo, 
lli.i:  svoriny  ima  Cinbraced  h.s  wife  and  children,  and 
h/s  lace  was  i:gl>re,;l  i  p  wiih  lo\-e  and  benevolent 
r::cai'irc — :r-,:/;::yjt  iili  jur  fl^drures^  the  moft  delightful": 
ir  i'  iJ  'if         i;cjJ.    l"Lis    Ine,  continued  he,  has  an  \ 
s.-rce»l!e  t^i'Ie  ui   iny  mouth  ;  it  tickles    my  palate, 
a;:.,  i;  .  a  icw  ;,n;r;;tcs,  i-:  will  be  over  ;  but  if  I  am  fo 
Iv/i  tu'-'a.ou.  r^' lave  Ivii".  Novl,  if  I  can  take  him  out  of  ' 
uiif  -ciL.         ljfy;_.crv,  a.  u  r.^ake  him  an  induftrions  ■ 
man,  \>hj  \.  iiLo.  L  a....- may  earn  a  livelihood  for  : 
hiiufelf—  th's  v.ouid  b<i  a  foijrce  of  joy  to  me  during  ' 
niy  whole  life.    Every  tiKie  I  faw  him,  my  heart  ■ 
wonld  w  hifper  rne,  behold  the  man  thou  liaA  refcu.ed;  . 
theii  fhoidd  i  feel  the  fame  pleafure  as  you  fee,  when 
the  good  girl  conies  to  fee  you,  whom  you  educated, 
when  her  father  and  uiocher  left  her  heiplefs,  without  ' 
a  friend  to  tahe  care  of  her.  , 
You  are  right,  my  dearJiufband,  faid  Mrs.  Jones  ;  \ 
let      contiriue,  with  part  of  our  fortune,  to  relieve  \ 
the  miierable  ;  lb  (hall  we  lia\  e  delightful  recoiled- 
ions  in  our  old  a^e,  Vv  hen  we  cannot  enjoy  any  other 
pleafurc. 


CHAPTER  XXr. 


Til  I  S  converfition  was  interrupted  by  the  en- 
trance'  of  a  young  nran,  whom  Mr.  Jones  hacl 
taken  on  trial  into  his  conipting-houfe,  and  given  dif- 
ferent enipioyments  to,  that  he  might  find  out  what  he 
had  learned,  and  whether  he  had  made  a  gt)od  uie  of 
his  time  before  he  carne  to  him.  He  brought  what  he 
had  written,  an  EngllOi  and  French  letter,  and  fonie 
bibs  he  had  cail  up.    Mrs.  Jones  left  the  room. 

Mr,  Jones  looked  over  them,  and  Ihook  his  head. 
In  what  hniguage  is  this  letter  written  ^  alked  he, 
Holding  it  to  him. 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y- 


ror 


In  Frcach,  replied  the  young  man. 
In  French,  conthiued  Mr.  Jones;  indeed  I  flioiild 
not  have  guelTed  it,  if  you  had  not  told  me  fo  ;  I  cannoc 
underltand  it,  there  is  not  a  line  without  a  tank.  And 
this  Eagliih  lecter — look  at  it  yourfelf,  what  faife 
gramnier  and  Ih'ange  fpelling  I  Do  yon  call  this  En- 
gliihr^  and  the  bills  are  very  carelefsly  calt  np  ;  in  this 
yon  have  made  a  miftake  of  twenty  pounds,  not  to 
take  notice  of  the  blnnders  in  the  pence  and  liiilHngs. 

The  young  man  bii  ibeJ,  and  could  not  bring  out  a 
word  in  his  ov/n  defence.  1  pity  you,  added  Mr. 
Jones,  you  are  an  unhappy  youth  :  1  c:inpot  employ 
you  in  my  compting-houfe.  I'ray  Sir,  cric-.l  rlie  youth, 
do  ho:  fend  nie  b!ack  ;  I  will  promife  to  be  very  atten- 
tive, a. id  1  itdi  (Jiay  learn  k)iiieLhi::g.  I'hat  you 
Ihoidd  have  done  before,  interrnpced  Mr.  Jo'ics ;  yon 
are  nOu  come  to  me' to  learn  French,  writing  u....:  ac- 
counts; but  to  be  ufeful  in  my  b'.diiieis-  \  on  can  do 
nochnig  properly;  I  cannot  trufi:  you;  I  muif  haye  a 
yo-.th  in  my  comptirjg-hoi  ie,  who  has  made  a  better' 
life  of  his  time.  No  mure  need  be  faid  about  it :  pack 
up  your  clothes  to-dav,  a  lo-HiOrrow  1  will  fend  yon 
ho  Jie  in- the  llage  ;  and  that  yo\]  may  fee  that  I  pity 
yoii,  I  v/iil  def  ray'  the  expences  of  your  joiu'ney.  The 
yonng  ]::a  i  w  o  .n!  iia  e  continued- Rill  to  entreat,  but 
IMr.  jo  ^es  wcit  o^.t  oi^  the  room,  faying,  as  he  Jhnt 
the  door,  yon  hear  my  de:erminaLion,  it  is  in  vain  to 

^diipuve  it ;  1  knowyoi^r  nnncr  lent  yon  to  a  goodichool; 
I  cannot  I;eep  a  clerk  i  is  idly  wailed  the  years  of 

.his  hi^  bcit  calculateo  a  r  iajorovement.  If  we  do  not 
attend  co  tlieleed  time,  we  mnlt  ne\  er  expect  a  har- 

'ved.. 

The  young  man  Itood  a  moment  filent,.  then  walked 
^in  agitation  up  and  down  the  room,  faying,  w  h.at  will 
my  fainer  and  mother  think  of  it  when  I  am  fent  back 
to  them  I  tiiey  vvdl  die  of  grief ;  arid  all  my  acc]nain- 
tiince  will  laugh  at  me.  How  much  moncry  has  been 
laid  out  on  me,  and  i  know  norhing  i — 0  that  I  could 
cali hack  the  Vi^ctrs  thtit  are  paG^  when  I  iriight^  have 
learned  fo  much?  but  my  t hough tleifnefs  and  fonUiieis 

I  3 


102 


ET  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


for  p'ay  have  prevented  my  receiving  any  benefit  from 
good  ii.-iU'i  .'V^ofi. 

Mt  a  V  ]i:je  Mrs.  Jcnes  w'?s  preparing  for  the  sn- 
proiiching  --^  ct'ding-;  and  •?  'V.i.'-sd  that  llie  muil  buy 
icine  new  r;i:bo::b  and  glo  a:H:  other  millinery  or- 
rianjcnrs.  She  then  determined  rogo  kerfelf  to  a  cham- 
bfi'  milliner,  who  had  been  waruily  reccnnmended  to 
her,  u\?.L  v.o  time  niight  be  loll.  Siie  loon  found  the 
liOL'tC,  aiid  kiiockcd  at  the  door  of  the  hrit  landing- 
place.  Come  in,  cried  a  liorid  voice.  She  opened  the 
doorfi-^ut  hovv  teiribly  w  as  (lie  frightened  when  fne 
fawaman  v.  ho  looked  grimly  on  her,  as  if  he  cordd 
l:a\e  killed  her.  It  was  iVIr.  Skinpeany,  whole  a- 
^.arice  the  whole  town  talked  of,  becaufe  he  only 
tlior.o lit  of  getting  m.oney,  and  often  fcraped  poiincis 
toge flier  in  a  \  cry  diihoneil  manner.  Though  he 
liad  hoaa-defi  rr.lficent  fum  to  enable  j'iim  to  live  at  his 
cafe,  fhoifid  he  live  a  hundred  years,  yet  he  grudged 
e\  ery  hn-thing  he  ipent :  his  food  vvas  bad,  and  his 
di  cfs  dirty  and  old  ;  and  fo  miferable  was  he,  that  he 
did  not  allow  himhdfaviy  of  ilie  comforts  of  life,  imlels 
r  d'ier  people  paid  for  tlicm.  He  riow  fat  in  a  chamber, 
the  W  cdls  of  which  vv'ere  covered  vv'ith  fmokcj  and  the 
Moor  was  fo  dirty  that  no  one  could  have  fuppofed  it 
luiu  Leeii  cleaned  for  tvvo  years  at  leaft.  iHe  wore  an. 
old  morn.ing  gown,  the  ofloi  r  ofwifich  it  vvasnot  eafy 
to  diko\  er.  On  the  tabic  itooci  the  rem.ains  of  his 
kainv  inc^iL  a  herring  a;^d  ibme  mouldy  cheeie;  and 
near  them  lafui  heaps  of  iuoney,  out  of  v/hich  he  was 
chooiing  the  lighieit,  to  give  to  the  poor  people  who 
.*ame  to  borrov/  oi"  him  ;  lor  he  gained  his  large  fortune 
hi  rhis  manner,  and  grew  rich  by  taking  advantage  of 
the  nn^iurtmiet  of  his  fellow  creatures.  Mrs.  Jones 
laid,  wiih  a  tremthug  voice,  Sir,  I  beg — what  do  yoiv 
hcg:  i.'iterrupied  he ;  I  have  not  a  moment's  peace 
didring  che  day — there  is  no  end  of  beggars.  I  told  you 
yeUerday,  that  I  would  give  you  the  m.oney,  if  you 
brought'^  a  pledge;  but,  wi'hout  it,  you  Ihould  not 
have  it,  thoL'gh  you  knelt  till  your  knees  were  fore* 

\\'li-t  do  \/o-..-'  menu,  Sir^  laid  Mrs.  Jones,  a  little 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


nngriiv  ;  do  you  take  me  for  a  beggar  I  and  flie  turned 
her  back  to  go  out.  Mr.  bkinpeuiiy  now  recoleded 
lier,  and  was  vcKed  at  the  miflake.  Oh,  yoii  are  Mrs, 
f  Jotircs,  the  rich  merchant's  v/ife  ;  I  humbly  aik  your 
pardon — did  not  at  firll  recoliecY  you.  Yeiterday  a 
woman  toriiiented  me,  above  an  hov.r,  to  lend  her 
twenty  pounds;  I  thought  I  was  Ipeaking  to  her^ 
when  I  faid  that  you  Ihould  not  have  it,  unlers  you  had 
brought  a  pledge.  Men  niuit  take  care  of  what  they 
earn  by  tixe  iweat  of  their  brow,  if  they  would  go 
through  the  world  like  honeit  people.  /  am  a  very 
poor  itnhatpy  nuiji  1  not  a  farthing  dare  I  ipend  on  my- 
■felf.  For  thcfe  fhree  years  pait  i  have  wifiied  to  buy 
'a  new  morning  gov/n,  and  ha\  e  not  yet  been  able  to 
fpare  fo  mucii  uioney.  As  true  as  I  itand  here  before 
yo.i.  Madam  Jones,  kdt  winter  1  thought  my  hands 
and  feet  would  ha\  e  dropped  off — it  was  fo  cold  I  had 
no  feeling  in  them,  becaitfe  I  was  afraid  to  keep  a  fire, 
coals  grew  fo  dear  during  the  long  froll — there  was  no 
telling  v>  hat  they  might  coiue  to.  let  every  creature 
who  comes  to  fee  me  v/ants  money  of  me,  as  if  1  were 
made  of  gold.  Believe  m.e.  Madam,  I  am  a  poor  mife- 
reble  man,  almoit  torxmented  to  death,  or  I  lhauid  have 
recoilec^ted  you.  Madam 

Bi;t  of  vviiat  value  is  all  your  money,  afked  Mrs. 
Jones,  if  you  make  no  ufe  of  it  ?  Ought  1  not  to  be 
Ccifeful  to  provide  for  my  old  age  ?  1  know  r^ot  how 
long  God  may  let  me  li^  e. — AVe  can  never  tell  what 
accidents  may  befal  us ;  I  may  be  bed-rid  for  many 
years;  and  who  will  give  me  any  thing,  if  1  do  not 
take  care  of 'myfelf.'*  But,  conthiued  Mrs.  Jones,  you 
appear  to  m^e  to  be  now  a  very  old  man,  and  to  have 
lived  lono.er  than  men  in  general  do  live. 

On  that  very  account,  lliould  i  not  be  very  careful 
left  I  would  come  to  want  at  laCc  ?  Beiides,  I  have  a 
ion  and  daughter,  whom  I  muif  pick  up  fonjething  for. 
But,  alas  I  I  has  e  no  thanks  from  then]  to  repay  me  ! 
1 'hey  are  always  plaguing  me  for  money — and  why 
ll:ould  they  come  tome,  who  am  an  old  man?  They 
are  llrong  ;  cr.r.nct  they  earn  their  ov;a  livelihood? 


104 


ELEMENTS  OF 


They  are  ok!  eaovcgh  to  take  care  of  themfelves.  There  ] 
is  no  more  aiied.oii  or  duty  in  the  world  ;  I  know  that 
they  reckon  the  hours,  and  wacch  for  my  death.    Mi-  ' 
ferable  wretch  that  I  am  !  forfaken  by  all  the  world, 
and  even  my  own  children  do  not  love  me. 

ria\  e  yon  already  given  thein  a  iufficient  fortune  to  • 
begin  the  world  with?  aiked  Mrs.  Jones.    Not  a  far- ^ 
thing,  replied  he,  angrily.    As  long  as  I  live  I  will  ! 
not  gi-'^e  uie  (hiil  ont  of  my  own  hands  ;  when  I  am 
de:ui  ilicy  inay  take  all  ;  but  I  am  not  dead  yet. — 

if  ib,  icpiied  L\Irs,  jonts,  yon  o;;ght  not  to  won- 
der if  yom' chil(h'en  neither  love  nor  reipe'5l  yon,  and  ! 
\\i''hibr  y.v.n'  dcach. — B-ic  can  yon  teil  mc  where  I  can  ^ 
find  hlis.  Kjuadtovd  ?  Yes,  niid  he,  iinduig,  glad  to  j 
get  rid  of  her  ;  Ihc  lodges  up  itairs  ;  yon  cannot  mifs  ! 
your  way.  i 

She  then  vv'iihed  him  a  good  morning,  and  begged  4 
his  pardon  for  having  diituroed  hnii.  JuU  as  Ihe  Ihut  .{ 
the  door,  he  aiked,  in  a  faint  voice,  if  iije  would  ■ 
drink  a  ginf  of  wine?  bnc  Ihe  cnrthed  a  refufal,  and  | 
conlvd  wIlIi  diiiicidcy  reltntin  a  laugh  as  Oie  tripped  np  ' 
flairs. 

She  now  faw  a  verv  dilFereat  appearance.  She  came 
into  a  room,  in  v/hich  indeed  there  v>  as  no  collly  far- 
niture  ;  b.:t,  in  every  pare  of  ir,  there  was  a  look  of 
cieaniinefs  and  order,  v/hich  refreihed  her  eyes  after 
the  ciiaitiber  Ihe  had  juit  left.  A':  a  cable  fat  .rvlrs.  ban- 
ford,  and,  near  iier.  tv/o  ciieerfal  looki.ig  daiiglicers  ; 
they  were  ail  dreifed  m  adcLei. c  maiiiier,  aiid  buiily 
employed  inaking  h.\t-  and  cn..^. 

Mrs  Janes  wjs  re.-'«\\  ea  •■.  =.  c'r  Vi\y  ;  and,  after 
{he  had  p;uvhaicd  the  liungs  ;ne  came  lor.  Ihc  rctp  eii- 
ed  perinuhon  to  iu  and  ivil  n?r.r:f  a  mo-;..'nt,  it  rney 
wo  id  go  o;i  \v'i.:h  tn^.r  vvor;:.     ■  ;\o  of  con- 

verfacion,  (h.e  ad  »i'red  their  h  <     .;  \  taile,  and- 

the  order  iiie  ooiervca  ui  mcr  p  nons  and  ro.)..i.  1  es, 
laid  Mrs.  Sandibrd,  a  good  cd-.  cation  was  vhc  ke.i  for- 
tune- y  rc.cive  *  from  my  mother,  and  a  good  one  it- 
prjvcd  to  be  when  my  moiiey  aieked  av/ay,  ' 


MORALITY. 


ShcTniift  have  been  a  reipectable  woman,  anAvered 
IVIrs.  joneii, 

Ycb,  Ihe  was  indeed  a  refpedlabled  woman,  conti- 
nued Mrs.  Sandford ;  thorgh  ihe  was  my  mother,  yet 
murt  I  praife  her  now  fhe  is  in  her  grave.  She  had  a 
conGderable  fcrtune,  above  ten  thoiiiand  pounds^;  but 
fhe  always  reminded  me,  that  proiperity  was  uncer- 
tain :  Fannys  Fanny,  fhe  woiiki  lay,  money  is  a  I'lip- 
pery  thing  j  triid  not  to  yoi.r  fortune,  the  largeit  v.  iii 
Hvirf!^  inieniibly  away  ;  improve  yoi-rielf : —  learn 
fomething  ;  if  you  continue  rich,  employment  will 
procure  y-ou  health  and  content  ;  and  li.Ould  any  mil- 
fortune  deprive  you  of  yoi^r  inheritance,  yo^r  abili- 
ties and  mdullry  will  enable  yon  to-  fr.pporc  -  yoLflelf 
-Wjithoiit  being  obL-j^ed  lo  any  body.  -I^boiilOund  the 
•ufeiof  my  hands  ;  1  learned  plain  work,  made  my  fa- 
ther's fiiirts  and  n:y  liioiher's  caps ;  in  ^lort,  i  learned 
cfciiery  thing  whieh  a  vvoman  cnghc  to  know  whoisde- 
^ftiived  to  be  a  morher,  aud  have  the  care  of  a  family  ; 
«.nd  I  was  as  g^y  as  a  lark  ;  I  had  time  to  read,  walk^ 
and  dancj^^  and  leeujed  to  enjoy  thcle  pieaii  res  niuch 
'tnore  thaii-chofe  who  fat  iiili,  and  thought  of  nothing 
■eift*.-  I  gained,  ■  by- ineie  means,  a  ilrong  conl'titbtioii. 
Vv  hen  I  am  lick,' I  always  know  v.  hat  ails  me  ;  I  ne- 
ver am  troi  bled  ^vith  thofe  nervous  complaints  \\  hich, 
I  really  believe,  i<i]eneis  produces;  for  the  phyiicians 
their.felves  do  not  know  what  to  call  ckem.  As  I  was 
an  only  chHd,  and  heirefs  to  a  good  icrtiine,  foolilh 
people  did  not  think  itneceflary  for  me  to  work» 

i\Ioii'oi  my  acquaintance,  Vvlio  had  not  fortunes 
equal  to  mine,  Ip-^nt  the  whole  day  in  dreliing  or  viiit- 
ing  ;  but  I-regnlariy  worked  and  managed  the  houfe 
in^the  -inoFning,  -adYl  found  tjinie  to  read  and  wrue. — 
-Yes,  we  Vv'tre  all  fe-  happy  at  home,  that  whenever  I 
■^■went  to  a  dance  or  a  piay,  I  longed  to  return  to  tell 
my  parents  what  I  had  feen.    I  made  baby  linen  for 
the  poor,  arid  gave  th^m  broth  and  coals  ;  i  tai-ghc 
•their  children  to  read  and  work — and  theco^n^iry  peo- 
ple li  fed  to  bleis  n>e,  and  fay  i  Ihouid  never  come  to 
want  ;  and,  tharxk  God  ?  I  never  have.    But  I  ihall 
always  reinember,  with  gratitude,  my  mother,  wli'.> 


.iq6  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


is  nov'  ill  heavoi; ,  bsicHViie  ine  giixe  me  fiich  a  good 
i'cli_;c:::;>~n  ;  b,,i  hjr  I^cr  i  .u.-h':  mu  a  liave  been  a.i  iciiC 
Leg.:r  ,  _  ^  '  _ 

vou-ig,  and  letr.  'jie,  wken  I  was  only  ijx- 
tecii,  lo  cake  cure  of  r>y  iachcr's  IaOoIc.  Soon  after 
I  v.'as  of  ;,-e,  liiy  I'lu  r  as  b-acc]icf  a w ay  ;  b.,.t,  be- 
fore ;:.  ••.t.at.b.  he  a;.:  '^-  -/  -^  cf  a  ii»..i.band  I  had  choien,. 
arc.a.  ■.  r  -f  •• .       i  la jrr'x^vf,  hiin,    and  endea- 

vouied  ^Ouiio.'wac;ie,  for  I  io'>'eU  oan. 

B.-t  flio-  i.c  'v.-.a  ci'/  liidciiierious,' be  be;.a»i)e  a 
bard.r •  he  bad  veav  red  my  fortune  In  a  very  pro- 
raa.  f  a-.:  ,e  ;  i^:  vv a:,  ' i  ba'aLow ed  i;p  ;  and  this  want 
oi  conudcraiion,  ue  vvonld  la/,  lay  neareft  bis  heart.- 
He  did  not  long  luryi-.T  hi  if  ic[S;  bo :  fell  into  a  con- 
fumptioii,  and  died,  lie  \>  as  cnc  o:t'  hi  his  prime, 
only  lix  and  d'hrty  ;  and  i  Nvas  ieit  nehlnd.  with  thel e 
two  da-  .■;};hccrs  i.o  luannani  and  edncaie,  whh;.i a  any 
viiibie  aieans.  1  remaiaea  at  i->rntoi,  becaine  I  lioj'ed,- 
v/hen  my  h.nbambs  a^hnrs  were  'iiettled, .  that  i  Ihoid.d 
ihll  ha\  e  iouiethii:>^  caibdcrabie  to  receive.  I  w^s. 
dilappointed,  yet  I  era -nTi veil  to  nve  till  i  fonnd  that  I 
had  only  a  hundred  poands  to  expect,  wKieh  would 
fooii  have  bee.n  coniarncil,  i/'  i  Jiad  not  reme.nibered 
poor  mother's  w  ords :  if  ^you-.flmil^  ev:r  he  ddfriii" 
of  youj-  foftune^  you  may  fnojij!:  by  your  abiliiUs  and 

indujiry.  i  ipoke  ihen  to  ihy  acqnaintance^ 

bought  a  liicie  hock,  and  becauie  a  milliner; — - 
as  1  whbed  to  attend  to  the  education  of  my 
daneliters,  I  did  not  choof^  to  keep  an  open  Ihop.— 
An  oki  milliner,  whom  I  had  formerly  alufied,  recom- 
mended her  cvdlomers  to  nie,  when  Hie  left  of  trade  ; 
beiides,  fhe  gave  me  Ibme  inlhaic^-ions  reipeding  the 
nianao^cnient  of  my  bi.linefs.  Siiice  that  I  have  had 
more  v/ork  oftered  to  me  than  I  could  do  :  I  have  ne- 
ver known  want;  I  have  given  my  children  a  prop^'r 
education — good  girls  !  they  now  alhll:  nie,  and  are 
the  comfort  of  my  de'clining  years. — I  have  no  care  ; 
when  I  am  dead^  they  can  maintain  themfelves.  I  am 
content,  nay,  happier,  excepting  the  lofs  of  my  huf- 
band^  than  when  i  w:as  miiirefs  of  a  large  fortune.—- 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  y.  107 

My  n^Oney  is  gone  ;  but  the  induflry  my  mother  taught 
ranalns  ivith  me  jlUl^  afid  fut> ports  me  and  ray  chil- 
Ar^n. 

Mrs.  Jones  rejoiced  at  having  met  witii  f.  ch  a  fenfi- 
ble  good  woman,  and  .decermiued  to  folicir  her  acquain- 
taace  in  her  favour. '  She  admired  the  indvJtry  of  her 
modeff  dai  ghcers,  und  adeireiririg  them  ma  .tnolt  friend- 
ly manner,  the  aimred  thenj  that  they  would  never 
know  want  or  care,  v/hiie  they  follo^ved  f;.ich  an  cx- 
.  ceilent  moclier's  example.    Slie  rcqiie:i:ed  Mrs.  Sand^ 
ford  to  viiit  her  fi  tqueudy ,  and  allow  the  young  peO:- 
.  pie,  when  they  had  done  their  work,  to  come  and 
walk  With  her  and  her  children.    Indeed,  my  dear 
Madam,  added  ihe,  I  wiih  to  become  intima:e  wich 
yon,  and  improve  by  your  inJiriictive  converfation, 
\  I  lhall  find  more   pleafure  in  yo':r  con)pany,  nay,, 
,  .think  myiejf  more  honoured  by  yoar  vifits,   than  I 
IhoLiid  ever  feel  from  the  notice  of  a  lady  of  quality, 
j  x)rlly  diitinguilhed  by  her  rank  and  fortune. 
,      This  converfation  was  interrnpted  by  a  gentle  tap  at 
[  the  door.    Come  in,  faid  Mrs.  Sandford  ;   the  door 
^  \vas  oj^ened,  and  a  poor  woman  entered,   whoie  ap- 
I  pea  ranee  fpoke  her  miJcry. 

Have  picy  on  me  ! — have  pity  on  me  !  faid  Ihe,  I  am 
J  a  poor  unfortunate  woman.    I  have  never  in  my  life 
before  had  occafion  to  all-:  charity  of  any  one — bat 
^  now — now  necellity  impels  me  to  pray  you  to  have 
.  companion  on  me.    My  hufoand,  who  is  a  taylor,  has 
by  his  induftry  fupported  me  and  my  children,  in  a  de- 
cent manner,  for  many  years.    But  he  has  now  been 
iick  about  a  month,  and  unable  to  earn  a  farthing  ; 
'  Hoi*  can  I   for  I  murt  nurfe  himxlay  and  night.    I  have 
;  fix  young  children,  who  cry  all  day  for  bread  ;  and 
the  poor  Tick  man  requires  nourilhnient  and  medicines, 
.  Iwhrie  I  Hard  by  and  cannot  help  him.    I  am  juil  come 
\  I  from  a  man  w  ho  lodges  in  the  room  under,  this  ; — 
'J  what  a  hard-hearted  man!  I  did  not  think  that  there 
jj-were  fuch  cruel  people  on  God's  earth.    He  gave  me 
I  nothing,  though  heapes  of  gold  lay  on  the  table  ;  he 
'  even  called  me  names ;  he  called  me  aa  idle^  wicked 


,o3  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  ^    O  F  I 

woman,  and  faid  that  I  had  fpent  all  my  ma*iey  in, 
drams— -what  cuLtino|  v/ords  !  //  is  hard  tnongh  tofuf*, 
fer  uuant  ;  hut  when  our  fellow  creatures  (iiut  theif  ' 
hearts  aga'mit  us,  or  reproach  us  for  our  niifery,  it  be«i 
comes  Uiibearable. 

V\^hy,  afked  Mrs.  Jones,  a  little  angrily,  did  you. 
not  come  to  me,  and  make  known  your  fituation  ? 
your  hufband  has  long  worked  for  us,  and  I  always 
thought  him  an  honetl,  induilrio-.s  man,   and  fuck, 
people  ought  never  to  futfer  want.     If  fometimes,: 
through  ftcknefs  or  other  unavoidable  accidents,  they 
happen  to  be  in  trouble,  every  good  man  Ihouid  be  ready 
to  fupport  them.    From  this  time,  good  woman,  come 
every  day  to  may  hpufe,  and  I  will  give  you  what  is 
fufficient  to  feed  your  family,   and  the  nonriihing; 
things  your  hufband  requires;  and  here  is  fomeihing  : 
to  fupply  your  prefent  prellmg  wants.    She  put  a  gui-  ! 
nea  into  her  hand,  and  Mrs.  Sandford  gave  her  half  a  ■ 
crown  ;  nay,  the  girls  gave  her  fix  pence  a  piece  out 
of  their  little  favings. 

The  woman  was  tranfported  with  joy.  Am  I,  faid 
Ihe,  amongi^  angels  ?  Yes,  now  I  fee  that  there  are 
itill  good  people  on  the  earth !  How  I  fliall  rejoice  the 
heart  of  my  hufband,  and  quiet  my  children,  when  I 
return  home  ! — God  forever  blefs  you  all/ and  give 
you  back  a  thoufand-fold,  what  you  have  beltov/ed 
on  me. — May  he  pour  the  fame  peace  into  your  bofoms 
I  now  feel !  She  lifted  up  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
hurried  out  of  the  room,  leaving  them  ail  with  tears 
in  their  eyes. 

Mrs.  Jones  was  now  obliged  to  haften.home,  after 
fhe  had  once  more  renewed  her  alTurance  of  friend- 
ihip ;  and  added,  that  Ihe  was  very  glad  that  flie  hap- 
pened to  hear  of  her,  becaufe  fiie  had  not  only  become 
acquainted  with  a  worthy  woman  ;  but  had  had  an 
opportunity  of  aliording  comfort  to  feveral  people  in 
diilrefo. 


MORALITY. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"TTTTHEN  Mrs.  Jones  retvnied  honie,  f]  e  fot'ncU-i 
W  Itranger  there^  who  came  frOiii  Baih  to  be 
prefent  at  the  approaching  weduirg.  He  was  the  Cii- 
'jare  of  a  little  neighbouring  village,  and  an  I'lhcr  at 
fchool.  ,He  was  juli  going  to  take  lea\e,  when  Mrs. 
Jones  entered,  becauie,  he  faid,  that  he  had  ibme  ba- 
linefs-to  fettle  that  afternoon.  Mr.  Jones  did  not  then 
attempt  to  detain  him  ;  but  prelied  him  fo  warmly  -to 
fpend  a  few  hours  at  his  houfe,  bcfi^re  he  left  Briilol, 
that  he  promifed  to  come  and  fnp  with  them,  if  he 
could  finifii  his  bnfmefs  in  time. 

When  he  was  gone,  Mary  aftced,  in  a  ridiciiiing 
tone,  why,  my  dear  father,  did  you  prefs  fb  much  a 
man  who  looked  fo  mean  and  vulgar,  that  I  fhould  be 
afraid  to  ftay  in  a  room  alone  with  him  ?  I  never  faw 
Inch  a  ftrange  looking  man  ;  he  turns  his  toes  in,  his 
ihoulders  are  up  to  his  ears,  he  makes  mouths  when  he 
is  not  fpeaking  ;  and  then,  what  an  old  falhioned  coat 
he  has  on  I  he  looks  like  a  plough-man. 

Mary,  Mary,  anfwered  Mr.  Jones,  be  not  fo  pre- 
cipitate in  your  ji  dgmenr  1  This  man  though  he  were 
iieglected  in  his  yauth,  and  acquired  habits  which 
I  make  him  look  very  auk  ward,  may  notwithftanding 
I  be  a  very  wife  and  good  man.    If  you  had  been  thus 
■  negleded,  you  v\ould  now  probably  have  a  number  of 
^ikward  tricks,  and  it  would  be  cruel  to  lavgh  at,  or 
defpife  you  for  them.    You  have  a  mother  v^  ho  fets 
you  a  good  example,  who  watches  you,  i'o  that  yoii 
!  have  been  prevented  trom  acqiiirmg  bad  habits  :  be- 
\  fides, 'you  have  learned  to  dance,  and  been  in  well- 
!  bred  company.    But,  probably,   this  gentleman  had 
I  none  of  thefe  advantages  ;  perhaps,  he  had  a  father 
I  who  could  HOC  aiford  to  ipend  m  ch  on  his  education  ; 
perhaps,  he  fpent  his  youth  in  Itudy,  without  having 


E  I.  E  M  £  N  T  S  OF 


any  oppertr.nity  of  mixing  with  the  world"  ;  and,  at 
prcfenc,  I  believe  he  has  io  much  to  do  in  his  fchool, 
that  \-\c  has  no  time  to  think  of  his  appearance.  IMary 
Jhll  did  not  like  him  ;  and  faid,  can  h.ch  a  man  be 
\\  ife  ?  can  he  do  much  good  ? 

Mr.  Jones  was  going  to  anfwer,  and  reprove  her 
for  her  foUy,  when  Mr.  Noeh entered  the  room,  and 
interrupted  the  converfation.  He  was  beginning  again 
to  thank  Mr.  Jones  for  his  kindnefs  t  but  hqinicrrV.pt- 
ed  him,  faying,  fpeak  no  more  of  it,  dear  Sir;  the 
beft  way  you  can  thank  me,  and  all  that  I  exped  from 
you,  is  this,  that  you  will  exert  yov.rfeif  to  become 
an  orderly,  indulh'ions  man;  cr  all  I  have  done,  and 

mean  to  do  for  you,  will  be  idelefs  and  I  lhall  be 

difappointed.  Pvlr.  Noel  allured  him.  that  he  intended 
to  exert  all  his  powers  to  become  what  he  wilhed  him 
to  be.  He  then  reqiieixed  Mr.  Jones  to  look  at  what 
he  had  done  that  day,,  and  freely  give  his  opinion.  He 
had  written  feveral  French  and  Englilh  letters,  and 
call:  up  fome  accounts.  Mr.  Jones  looked  the^m  over, 
and  found  them  written  with  more  care  than  he  ex- 
pelled, an  i  tlie  accounts  were  perfeftly  right,  if  yeu 
continue  to  be  fo  attentive,  I  fhall  expert  to  fee  you  a 
rich  man,  faid  Mr.  Jones,  fmiling  ;  but  infpiteof  fate 
you  will  become  refpeclable  ;  for  that  depends  on  your 
condud:,  and  not  on  }  our  fi.ccefs.  Mr.  Noel  faid, 
Xhat  he  felt  a  little  tired,  not  having  been  accuflomed 
to  work  ;  but,  from  the  pleaPure  he  experienced,  and 
the  fee  ret  fatisfaclion  he  had  feldom  tailed  at  the  dole 
of  an  Idle  d^y,  he  really  beheved  he  fnould  be,  in  fu- 
ture, happier  living  an  adive  life,  than  when  he  en- 
jo}'ed  all  the  fr.perfluities  this  world  could  afford,  anxi 
only  thoi.ght  of  feekin^  for  amufement. — Alas,  Sir, 
contini  ed  he,  I  have  diicovered  that  no  man  can  enjoy 
pleafure  who  does  not  fulfil  fome  duty;  and  purine 
fome  ufefi  l  objed  regularly  every  day. — We  cannot 
be  idle  Vvithout  being  wicked. 

Now  the  Ulher  returned  ;  his  entrance  feemcd  to 
difc oncer t  Mr.  Noel,  and  he  remained  filent  fome 
^linutes^  Ifaring  at  him.    At  laU  he  faid,  pardon  v^ie^ 


M  O  Pv  A  L  I  T  y. 


Sir  ;  is  not  yQi'r  name  Goodimn  ?  Yes,  anfwered  he^ 
but  where  have  X  had  the  plcafiireof  knowing  you  ? 
\ycrc  you  not  once  tutor  to  the-ibn  of  a  IVJr.  Noel, 
of  Yorklhire  ?  Yes,  rephed  Mr.  Goodman,  and  I 
i)io'>id  have  made  fomeihing  of  that  child,  if  he  had 
not  been  an  only  fon  jvbut  his  mother  was  fo  fooiilhly 
indulgent,  that  flie  never  let  him  lludy  half  an  hour 
together,  left  it  ihonld  make  him  fick.  Mr.  Noel  then 
{bned'np  and  caught  his  hand,  laying,  heft  of  men, 
my  benefactor,  do  you  forget  little  James,  whom^^pu 
formerly  iniiructed  r — I  am  he  ?  You  are  7ny  prejerve?-^ 
my  more  than  father — all  my  comforts  mnit  1  afcribe 
to  you — you  are — lie  was  inierrupted  by  a  f-^rx^ant, 
who  came  to  tell  his  mafter  that  fuppsr  w  :i3  on  the  ta- 
ble. 

During  fupper  time,  Mr.  Noel  could  fpeak  of  no- 
thing but  the  good  inllrudion  he  had  in  his  youth  re- 
ceived from  Mr.  Goodman.  I  remember  very  well, 
laid  he,  how  good,  hov/  kind  you  were  tome.  How 
many  times  you  defired  me  to  be  deligcnt,  and  not 
walle  ail  the  precioi  s  hours  of  youth  in  idientfs.  You 
ahvays  repreiented  to  me,  that  a  man  who  learned  no- 
thing in  his  youth  would  ever  be  contemptible  and 
unhappy  ;  if  1  had  followed  my  own  iiiclujations,  I 
fl-ioidd  have  done  ncfthing  but  play.  V/hea  you  came 
and  took  me  from  iuy  ami-fements  to  receive  my  lef- 
foMS,  I  was  often  fo  ajigry  with  yoii,  ihat  I  wilhed 
you  a  hundred  miles  olf.  But  you  had  patience  widi 
uie,  and  continued  to  remind  me  that  I"  Ihould  be  a  ve- 
ry ignorant  gentleman,  if  1  did  n.ot  at  leaft  learn  \vrit- 
ing,  arithmetic,  and  to  fpeak  French.  You  fometinies 
punilhed  me  when  I  neglected  my  lefTons,  and  I  then 
thought  you  a  very  cri  el  man;  but  now,  dear  Sir, 
now  I  fee  clearly,  that  no  man  in  the  world  has  been 
of  the  tn'e  to  me  that  you  have.  Let  rne  tell  you,  in 
a  few  v\  ords,  my  lituation.  My  whole  fortune  is 
fpent,  and  my  wife's  with  it  ;  befides,  I  was  heir  to  a 
rich  iincle — but  it  is  ail  gone,  meked  away  by  extra- 
X  agance.  I  am  ilripped  of  every  thing  ;  only  what  I 
Ie^|:neJ  from  you  remains.    I  can  write^  call  up  a  biii, 


112 


ELEMENTS  OF 


1 


cir.'-l  fpeak  Freu.  ii, — Yes,  I  dill  can  do  whst  yoii  tarigl^t 
Hie:,  and  tL::;:;  .ts  prociire  me  breacl.  My 

beacfjctor,  i  _  o,  :  jr  this  ;  I  thank  yon  for  eve- 

ry ht)'..r's  isilii*  :ili;0:i  ircceivcd,  for  your  advice,  and 
the  bun- ihiui'n;:^  j,'ou  iiuulc  tne  luide ri-i;o. 

rvlr.  Goodman  vv  ^is  \  cry  niwch  aitcded  by  this  dif- 
coi;rre.  He  i'ald,  i:  oi'\Cbme  the  trnert  pieafure  to 
find  tha:  i  have  contnbiited  to  the  happinei's  of  a  fel- 
lo\.-  creaL 're. 

I'iic  bcii  re\vard  we  fcboohnafters  can  receive  for 
s'l  o  r  troiible  is,  that  we  fornetimes  are  fo  happy  as 
to  li^  e  ro  icc  ihc  rrood  ^ve  have  done.    The  ba^lile^s  of  - 
vciy  iaborioi.s.    Children  are,  in  general, 
-       '  htlel^,  and  give  us,  through, 

thc.i'  :  .:  .  much  trouble  ;  and  tiiey 

often  ha  .lU,  tiiat  they  thnik  us  crr.ei 

wnen  we  -  -  i  -  •  'earn  cheir  leilbns,  that  they 

may  noc  g,i'ovv  u\)  i  :  a.  tcol  ignorance,  and  be  una- 
ble to  lake  care  of  tiiCi;i: :1\  es,  when  theyo' ghtto  be  | 
able  to  take  care  of  ri:c:r  ciiiidren.  And,  for  all  our 
tro  uble,  v.'C  fekkvin  rcicr/e  fidiicient  to  maintain  our 
families,  and  lay  by  fome thing  for  our  old  age.  When  1 
ill  inele  c^rcumnK.nces,  o\  r  cUnhes  are  lhabby  ;  for,  in 

caies,  a  man  iiab  not  that  time  to  think  of  dreis,  | 
^^  bk:i  ix-^i'^^  -"''Y  ^p-^i'-  ^'^io  have  nothing  eiie  to  do,  i 
and  live  in  abi;ndance  ;  if,  I  fay,  he  acquires  lonie  auk- 
v/ard  h  abits,  from  iludy  or  vcxaiion,  people  are  To  un- 
jnii  as  to  redicule  him,  nay,  defpife  hi^n,  becaufe  he 
has  not  the  manners  of  a  line  geiudeman,  who  only 
thiiiks  of  anuding  himlelf.  Indeed,  Mr.  Noel,  if  we 
had  not  ibmetlmes  the  pieafure  to  fee  that  we  have 
done  good,  our  iituation  would  be  a  very  difagreeable 

OxiC. 

Mary  conld  no  longer  reRrain  her  tears;  flia  rofe 
from  the  table,  and  hid  herfelf  behind  the  window 
curtain,  that  the  coihpany  might  not  fee  her  weep. 
Her  father  went  to  her,  and  eno^uired,  in  a  v/hifper, 
what  was  the  caufe  of  her  tears.  I  am  aihamed  of 
mvfelf,  faid  Ihe  ;  I  have  dons  vjrong^  I  have  rldlcuUd 
this  good  man  ; — he  is  a  feniible  man,  has  done  a  great 


M  G  R  A  L  1  T  Y. 


"3 


cieaiof  good,  and  has  had  many  things  to  vex  him. — 
If  I  did  but  know  how  I  could  inalce  an  excufe  for  my 
folly  I  would  try  to  forget  that  I  had  been  fuch  a 
fool  but  I  will  never  again  laugh  at  an  old  man,  bc- 
caid'e  he  has  on  a  lhabby  coat. 

Her  father  tried  toconipofe  her,  and  pcrfaaded  her 
to  return  to  her  feat,  alter  he  had  feriooily  defiredher 
not  to  be,  in  future,  fo  hal\y  in  forming  an  opinion. 
He  added,  that  the  moft  ufeful  people  Ibmetimes  ne- 
gleded  their  drefs  ;  and  have,  in  the  eyes  of  children 
and  ignorant  perfoHs,  an  aiikv  ard  appearance,  x'^nd 
many,  who,  like  officers,  ha\  c  fiac  coats  on,  ami  hav.e 
aneafy  manner  of  fpeaking  and  bowing,  are  very  fool- 
ilh  and  v/icked  people,  x^bove  all,  we  ought  never  to 
la-igh  at  bodily  deformity  or  poverty,  beeaufe  perfons 
fo  afiiided  have  often  more  good  qualities  thah  rich  and. 
handfome  people,  who  have  not  had  misforturies  to 
teach  them  how  to  improve -their  nnderllandirig,  and 
love  their  nuferable  fellow  creature^.  Beiides,  if  you 
^ had  acquired  more  clifcernment,  you  would  have  dif- 
-covere  d  in  this  genteman's  face  fo  miich  fenle  and 
goodne  fs,  that  you  would  have  loved  and  not  have  ri- 
dicvded  him. 

Mary  now  returned  to  the  table,  and  lldeling  in  a 
balliful  way  to  Mr,  Goodinan's  chair,  took  his  hand 
and  looked  at  him  jbrro vv'f idly ,  as  much  as  to  fay,  1  am 
very  forry  that  1  ridiculed  f.-ch  a  wife  audufeful  man. 
He  kiiicd  her,  called  her  a  good  girl,  aud  fiie  began  to 
fmile  again  through  her  tears. 

>     The  company  then  role,  after  the  converfatioa  had 
turned  oa  the  many  diuicultles  teachers  ha\'e  to  over- 

...  come  who  wilh  to  improve  their  pupils-;  and  that  chil- 
dreti,  inl'tead  o(  playing  them  tricks,  and  laughing  at 
tiieir  appearance,  ought  to  try  to  pleafe  them,  and 
render  their  talk  eafier.  A  fooliih  child  laughs  at  eve- 
i-y  thing  it  does  not  underfland  ;  a  good  one  nevef- 
forgets  that  it  muit  live  many  years  in  the  "svorld  be- 
fore it  can  dii'dnguiih  right  from  vvrong. 


,114  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


T  £  K  XXIIL 


TH  E  next  morning  they  had  a  very  cheerfiTf 
breakfait  ;  but  no  one  In  company  was  fo  gay 
_^l;iry.  She  i\ood  fmUiiig  at  the  back  of  her  mother's 
chair,  ilealing  a  look  at  lier  father,  as  foe  drank  her 
i]]i;k,  with  eyes  fparkiing  widi  joy,  Mary,  faicl  he, 
yovt  have  certainly  been  very  good,  becauie  you  look 
happy. — Perhaps  I  have,  anfweered  Ihe,  and  ilepping 
ibiUy  into  the  next  room,  foon  returned  with  her 
v/ork-balket  full  of  tiie  midiin  her  mother  gavedier  ta 
.kern  the  day  before.  She  put  it  on  the  table,  and 
ikid,  you  were  very  right,  dear  mother  ;  throi/gb 
■p-y^cvcrauce  ive  may  do  many  things  ^vhich  njue  tkoupht 
impoifioU.  Look,  look,  here  are  the  flounces  which 
you  yeAerday  gave  me  to  hem.  I  did  nat  think  that 
I  ihoidd  ever  have  got  to  the  end;  hut  through  per- 
J}vtrsnce  and  attention  I  have  mads  it  fojfible.  Is  it 
not  true  ?  If  I  had  got  up  from  my  feat  every  moment^ 
had  I  pkiyed  or  looked  out  of  the  window,-  I  ihould  not 
ha\e  fukuhed  half  my  talk.  But  I  did  not  do  fo  ;  I 
minded  what  you  faid,  mother;  I  never  left  my  feat, 
but  when  I  could  not  help  it.  I  heard  once  a  French- 
luan  i]i  thcRreet,  with  dancing  dogs  ;  I  muf^  own  that 
I  did  wilh  to  fee  them  ;  yet  I  did  nat  i\ir.  My  brother 
came  twice  to  alk  mc  to  come  play  with  him  :  but  I 
fixed  my  eyes  an  my  w^ork,  thinking  how  furprized 
you  all  woidd  be  to  fecit  done  by  breakfaft  time.  Yes^ 
dear  mother,  I  am  glad  I  did  as  yon  badetiie. 

Mrs.  Jones  kiiFed  her,  and  gave  her  the  praife  fhe 
had  earned  by  her  induflry.  Enjoy  this  praife,  my 
child,  faid  Ihe  ;  it  is  fweet,  it  is  entirely  your  own; 
yon  have  deferved  it  for  praclifing  feif-denial,  and 
doing  mai:e  than  was  expe£ted  from  you;  but  when 
you  are  praifed  on  account  of  your  clothes^  you  ought 


MORALITY. 


iiot  to  feel  pleafure,  becaufe  a  wooden  doll,  without 
a  miud,  may  look  well  in  fine  cloches. 

Yes,  continued  Mary,  1  am  very  glad  that  it  is 
done,  and  that  I  conquered  myfeif.  If.  I  had  now 
jiiuch  to  do,  I  Ihould  be  very  nneafy  :  and  think  if 
it  were  but  done  !  if  it  were  but  done  ?  I  fliouki 
have  nothing  to  care  for  ;  for  if  I  had  not  finilhed  it, 
•I  Ihould  have  been  fo  vexed — and  now  here  it  is  all. 
hemmed — I  am  fo  glad  j  and  as  often  as  I  fee  ^our 
gown,  I  lhali  feel  new  joy,  I  ihall  always  remem- 
ber in  future,  when  I  have  any  thing  to  do,  not  ta 
begin  any  other  work  till  I  have  finiilied  what  I  am 
about. 

Mr.  Jones  was  equally  pleafed  with  Mary's  con- 
dud,  and  advifed  his  children  to  he  very  attentive  to 
their  work  and  lelfons  ;  and  net  ta  allow  themfelves 
to  be  tired  when  they  fometimes  found  them  difficult. 
If  they  follow'^d  this  advice,  he  allured  ihem  that 
they  would  have  many  happy  hours  in  every  fituatiort 
in  hfe.  When  we  think  of  our  work,  that  we  Aill 
have  much  to  do,  we  are  often  a  little  difcou raged  : 
but  when  it  is  finilhed,  we  llaail  feel  the  pleafure  Mary 
now  feels. 

The  children  liftened  attentively  to  their  father's 
advice,  and  the  family  feperated  to  fulfil  the  duties  of 
the  day.  Mary  v>'ent  with  her  mother  to  hear  her  give 
orders  to  the  iervants,  and  regulate  her  houf-hold  mat- 
ters ;  and  file  did  not  forget  the  poor  taylor,  and  his 
family  ;  Ihe  tafted  the  lago  which  ihe  intended  to  fend 
him,  and  put  the  wine  into  it  herfelf  ;  for,  faid  Ihe  to 
Mary,  it  is  my  duty  to  fee  that  what  I  give  to  a  poor 
fick  man  is  good;  but  when  a  rich  man  dines  with  us  I 
am  not  fo  anxious,  becaufe  he  has  a  good  dinner  every 
day  at  home. 

Mr.  Jones  vvent  into  his  compting-houfe,  and 
Charles  to  his  mailer. 

He  had  already  waited  for  him,  a  fe^v  minutes,  in  the 
fummer-houfe  j  where  he  daily  inlfrucled  him,  and  two 
other  children. 

This  j  udicious  mafter  had  eftablifiied  a  cuftom  among- 


EL  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


his  little  fcholars,  that  they  flionld  writedown,  ancT 
ihew  him  what  appeared  nioft  remarkabie  to  them  in 
the  lefions  they  had  received  the  day  before.    By  this  ' 
method  he  not  oaly  gave  them  an  opportanity   to  re-^ 
peat  what  they  had  h^arned;  but  he  quickly  perceived 
who  had  been  attentive  or  thoughtlefs. 

Little  jaines  w  as  hrft  delired  to  iliew  what  he  had 
written;  and  it  was  done  lb  orderly,  that  the  mailer 
vras  very  weU  latished  with  it.    He  had,  the  day  be- 
fore, pointed  out  to  his  fchojars  many  different  kinds 
of  ini'ects,  and  had  lliewn  thein  in  how  many  refpeets 
they  were  ufefiil.    All  this  James,  had  retained,  and  fet^ 
(lo\vn.    He  mentioned  the  different  kinds  of  food  in-.' 
jlmd  led  thofe  little  creatures  to  feeK  for their  remarks-  . 
bie  chano  es  from  one  form  to  anocher  ;  their  retreat  in  | 
the  winter;  how  many  little  birds  lived  on  them  ;  and  | 
whatufethey  were  of  to  man.  ! 

When  he  had  finiihed  his  recital,  the  i7)after  expreff-  .1 
ed  how  weh  pieafed  he  was  wuh  him  :  I  fee  very  clear-  j 
Jy,  faid  lie,  that  yon  have  really  been  inllni(?ied  by' 
my  converiarion ;  and  that  yon  tho-ight  on  what  you-, 
were  abo  ;t  wncn  you  wrote  dosvn  the  parts  you  recol-  ^: 
ie<l'tcd,   beca.fe  they    engaged  your  atiention.  You^ 
havs  been  attentive.    Stiii  continje  to  exercife  your 
attention  ;  always  turn  your  thoughts  to  your  emp]oy- 
nient,  vxhatever  yon  apply  to,  and  on  tne  pleaiures 
yon  enjoy. 

Wheii  yon  walk  in  a  gar:!?:!,  f.^r  example,  turn  yonr 
thoughts  on  the  (>r>jeci.s  about  yo:i;  on  the  trees,  rlow- 
ers  and  herbs,  whieh  grow  near  you  ;  on  the  buds, 
bncterfiies  and  beec,  that  iiy  around  you;  in  Ihort,  on 
every  thing  v/hlch  paues  before  you.  Do  this  with  at- 
tenc.u:!,  aiid  yoj  v^ull  probably  becorqts  a  great  man. 
Every  day  you  wi|l  learn  fomething  more,  grow  wifer  •  j 
and  all  3'OL:r  undertakings  vvull  iuccecd  like  tins  exercife. 
Plealuje  will  iiow  in  on  yoLi  from  every  lide;  for  yoa 
■will  then  remark  and  feel  ail  that  is  agreeabie  or  bcauti- 
f;d  in  wha:cver  yon  tahe,  in  every  dower  which  you^i 
i'ee,  and  in  every  bird  yon  hear  ling. 

The  mailer  thea  rook  a  red  booli  cut  of  his  pocket^' 


MORALITY. 


in  which  he  harl  a  cuftom  of  fetting  down  what  he  re- 
marked or  his  Icholars,  and  behold  what  he  wrote:  the 
thirtidih  of  Aitgnjl  Jamts  has,^  by  "^riling  a  good  txer^ 
cijt^  given  a  vdry  J?;  o^g  proof  of  his  attention. 

Then  James  fin. led  :  ne  was  happy  to  think  that  his 
father  would  hear  or  his  acueRtion,  and  he  ielt  lausjied 
vithhimielf. 

Now  Charles  brought  his  exercife,  h  t  it  was  not 
done  half  fo  well.  He  had  not  only  left  ot  t  many  of 
;  his  tutor's  obfervations,  but  alio  wri-ten  down  ma.iy 
things  widiout  ihuiking.  Keipecting  the  may- 
I  biig,  for  inifaiice,  he  h?d  fet  do  >vn  iliac  ic  lays  its  eggs 
on  trees;  and  of  the  fpider,  tiiat  it  was,  dunng  lo.ne 
time,  m  the  itate  of  a   nymph,  (achryfahs.) 

The  ma  iter  was  vtrv  angry  at  tnis,  and  laid,  you 
have  cercainly  been  veiy  g'd.iy ;  yon  have  neither  paid 
j  attention  to  my  uiih'icton,  <ior  to  yo.a*  ei.ercife ;  o  it 
}  you  have  had  fo inediini.^  eiie  in  your  head.    Ha\  e  I  not 
I  gueiled  right  ?  Own  the  truth  ;  v  hat  were  you  think- 
ing of  ?. 

Charles,  alhamed  of  himfelf,  caft  his  eyes  on  the 
ground,  and  fa-d,  I  am  to  go  to-morrow  to  a  weddir>g  • 
and  the  weddnig  has  never  been  ov.t  of  my  head  ever 
fince  I  heard  i  was  to  go.  I  have  been  condnuaiiy 
thinking  what  pleafure  I  fhould  have;  wliat  coinpa:;y 
I  ihould  meet,  and  how  I  ihould  play  and  dance  there. 

I  believe  you,  faid  the  mailer.  Now,  dear  Charles, 
try  quickly  to  cure  yourfelf  of  this  faiiit  of  indtten:ion^ 
and  let  not  your  thoughts  ruitter  round  imaginary  pic- 
tures of  pall  or  future  pleafures;  elfe  you  will  be  good 
for  notlnng  ;  you-will  learn  very  little  and,  in  aii  yojr 
undertakings,  you  will  be  unfuccefsfui,  juft  as  in  this 
exercife,  you  will  not  even  be  in  a  ikte  to  enjoy  plea- 
fure. \ou  wiy  eat  and  drink,  and  not  tal\e  how  re- 
frelhing  it  is;  you  Vv' ill  walk  thro  ugh  gardens,  helds 
and  woods,  and  not  perceive  their  beauties,  if  you  do 
not  turn  your  thoughts  to  them.    Poor  Charles 

Charles  lifted  up  his  eyes,  vet  vv  as  aihamed  to  look, 
h'm  in  the  face.  . 

.n  I  not  right,  faid  the  maftec.'* 


ii3  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F  '1| 

Yes,  indeed,  replied  Charles ;  yeflerday  I  could  do  I 
nothing.  I  began  to  play  on  my  liu^e  iiddle;  buz  no  1 
found  coiild  I  briiig  out,  nry  thoughts  -were  tar  olf.  | 
So  fi.il  \\  as  I  of  tlie  \vedc;ri^:,  ihat  I  f^'ailowed  my  j 
dinner  wicliout  chewing  my  tiieac,  and  fcarceiy  talted 
what  1  eat.  ^ 

Indeed,  continned  the  inafier,  this  bad  habit  is  be*  : 
coine  very  ftron^  ;  I  fet  it  down,  that  I  may  ob- 
ferve  it,  and  try  if  I  can  cr.re  yoa  uf  It.  For  it  is  ab- 
foivitely  neceliary  that  vou  lliv.uid  correct  this  fault,  if 
yoii  ever  expect  to  become  a  feniiOie  Paan.  .An  inatten- 
t'tve  child  "Jiiil  jidve'f  make  a  p'Ojlciency  In  any  thing, 

Charles  looked  iorrowfrdly  at  his  malier,  as  if  he  ; 
would  fay,  pray,  Sir,  for<^;ive  me  only  this  time,  and 
it  iijail  licrer  bcippen  a::yain.  .  '\ 

But  the  maii  ^rcid  t:u- i^yiTer  himlelf  to  be  moved  by  ; 
h  s  eiiireacic3 ;  he  took  out  the  black  book  in  which  he  ■ 
al  ways  ict  down  the  faults  of  his  cli(.>]ars,  and  wrote  in  \ 
it:  the  ihtrilcih  of  AAoufj  C'.a-i^s  has^  by  writing  a  j 
V:.\-^y  had  c'.vc'/r// given  a  :io>f  that  hs  is  very  inat*  | 
ientive.  i 
This  vexed  Charles,  for  the  bla.':  book,  as  well  as  the 
red  Oi.e,  was  e^ery  we^-^k  e-vaiiiii  ed  by  his  lather. 

Now  came  the  tura  of  ine  o.licr  iclioiar^  vviilram; 
h  t  he  had  not  dor.e  his  exerciie.  AV  iien  he  was  a{l<>ed 
why  he  iiad  been  ib  neghgent,  he  faid,  as  an  cxcuie, 
that  his  tcJtiier  and  mother  nad  gone,  the  evening  be- 
fore, a  Soag  vraik  ioto  the  country,  and  taken  hiiii 
witii  c'lrjin,  ib  thau  he  had  not  had  time  to  hniih  his 
exerche. 

That  is  certainly  a  He,  interr>-pred  the  maRer. 

No.  inoeed,  faid  Vf' ^Uian:,,  and  wept  bitterly,  yon 
may  aik  my  father  himfelf,  if  you  will  not  belle^e  me. 

It  is  very  probable,  cont'.x-jed  the  laaller,  that  you  .^! 
took  a  w.dk  Vv'ith  yo.^r  father.  If  James  or  Chanes 
had  faid  To,  I  fhould  Irave  believed  tliem  without  fiir- 
ther  thought,  bccaufe  I  kno.v  that  they  always  ipeak 
the  tn.th.  B,.t  how  dars  yoa  expect  that  I  ihail  believe 
yc/Li,  when  i  have  detected  yon  in  fo  many  lies  !  only 
iaii  week^  you  told  me  tnat  you  could  notfinilhyonr 


MORALITY. 


119 


/cxerclfe,  hecinCe  yon  had  been  obliged  to  do  forncrhing; 
for  yovT  father.    I  enquired  of  him,  and  found  that  r: 

\\as  an  untruth.    Since  I  know  that  you  are  a  liar  

how  can  1  depend  on  what  you  fay  ?  u'c  cannot  eajliy 
believe  him^  luhom  ive  have  once  dete6led  in  a  lie. 

The  black  book  was  then  taken  out  again,  and 
though  William  declared,  w  ith  te^rs  in  his  eyes,  that 
now,  indeed,  he  had  cold  the  truih,  his  mafcer  would 
let  down  :  the  ihirti:fth  of  Auguft^  IVillia'iri.  did  not 
hring  his  exereife^  and^  to  excufe  himfdf^  he  J  aid  that 
he  went  to  take  a  -walk  with  his  father  ;  bvt  I  ccinnot  he' 
lieve  himy  becjxufe  I  know  that  he  is  a  liar,    ^til!,  if, 
i  during  three  months,  continued  the  nisUer,  I  do  noc 
I  again  detect  you  in  a  lie,  1  will  forgive  you  ;  and,  be- 
i  Jiieviiig  that  you  have  learjied  to  attend  to  truth,  truft: 
you  in  future  as  I  do  your  play-mates. 

The  lellbns  being  over,  the  beys  were  allowed  to 
iamufe  tliemfelves  in  the  garden.  Charles  took  his 
play  fellows  to  the  little  garden  which  his  father  hsd 
given  him,  and  Ihewed  them  the  flowers  and  vegeta- 
tables  that  he  had  planted  hinifelf.  He  began  then  to 
gather  the  ripe  feed,  which  he  put  into  a  paper  bag; 
to  pluck  up  the  v/eeds,  and  do  ^vhatever  elfe  ^vas  ne- 
ceflary  to  be  done,  and  his  play-fellows  helped  him. 
'When  they  were  a  little  tired,  they  rambled  about  the 
garden,  and  gratified  themfelves  with  the  light  of  the 
yarious  plants  which  grew  there. 

'  Now  the  clock  Ih'uck  two.  It  was  the  hour  when 
Mr.  Jones  ufually  dined,  and  ail  his  family  were  ob- 
liged to  be  pun(ftual,  and  come  immediately  to  table. 
Charles  told  James  that  they  mull  now  part,  and  he 
looked  for  William  to  tell  him  that  it  was  time  to  o-q 
home;  but  he  cor. Id  not  find  him  any  where.  They 
both  called  out,  as  loud  as  they  could,  William,  Wilh- 
am  ;  but  no  William  could  they  hear,  or  fee.  They 
could  then  only  fuppofe  that  he  was  already  gone,  and 
:hey  left  the  garden,  fbiitting  the  door  after  them. 
James  went  home,  and  Charles  to  dmner. 

Biit  William  was  not  gone  home.    He  had  hid  him- 
I'elf     a  thick  arbour^  to  play  his  fchool- fellows  a  trick  j 


120 


ELEMENTS    O  T 


he  imagined  that  they  would  be  imeafy,  and  not  leave 
the  garden  till  they  had  fo-.-nd  him.  But  when  he  no 
longer  heard  their  voices,  he  began  to  be  afraid  that 
they  might  leave  him  behind;  He  came  then  out  of 
h.b  hiding  place,  fought  all  around  for  his  play-mates, 
h-Jt  none  co  dd  he  fand.  He  fcreamed  out,  James;. 
Charles,  and  no  one  aiifwered  hini.  He  ran  to  th«^ 
garden  door,  and  found  it  ihut.  Now  he  grew  uneafy. 
He  called  out  in  a  fretful  tone,  fometimes  James,  theiv 
Charles,  Mr.  Jones,  and  all  the  reit  of  the  names  he 
could  recoiled,  he  repeated  them,  without  flopping  to 
take  breath.  But  how  could  they  hear  him  ?  they 
-^ere  ail  at  dinner,  or  preparing  for  if 

As  he  could  neither  open  the  door,  clime  over  it^ 
nor  make  himfelf  heard,  the  beft  thing  he  could  hav^ 
done,  was  to  have  waited  quietly,  till  fome  one  paifed 
by.  But  he  did  not  do  fo ;  he  was  inpatient;  and 
though  it  was  entirely  owing  to  himfelf  that  he  was  fliut 
in,  yet  he  looked  all  romid  to  fee  if  he  could  perceive 
any  living  creature  to  vent  his  fpleen  upon.  As  he, 
faw  nothing,  he  turned  all  his  auger  againlt  the  gardenj 
door,  which  could  not  offend  him  or  feel  his  blows/' 
He  Kicked  ag-ainit  it  with  ail  his  force,  and  he  would 
certainly  have  fplit  the  door,  if  the  pannels  had  not 
been  very  thick.  Twenty  times  had  he  kicked  againft 
the  door,  without  making  any  inipretTion  on  it;  at  iaft 
he  grew  qi.ite  frrious,  bit  his  hps,  colle6ted  all  Jiis 
Arength,  and  kicked  again.  But  oh  I  what  now  ? — 
his  foot  liuck  to  the  door,  and  he  roared  out  with  pain. 
He  had  kicked  againit  it  with  fuch  violence,  that  a 
great  nail,  which  iXvck  out,  had  run  almolt  thro'  gh 
his  foot. — There  hung  the  impatient  boy,  unable  to 
draw  his  fooc  back;  he  tried  once  or  twice,  but  fcr earn- 
€d  out  thro.'gh  pain  when  he  attempted  it,  and  gualh- 
ed  his  teeth  throi  gh  rage.  The  blood  ran  out  of  his 
ilioe,  and  the  whole  weight  of  his  body  reited  on  one 
foot — the  other  was  nailed  to  the  door. 

In  this  dreadful  fituation  he  remained  a  quarter  of 
xn  hour.    He  V>Y:,ed  pale,  his  legs  and  all  his  iimba^ 
trembled,  and  he  would  certainly  haye  fainted,  ifbyl 


MORALITY. 


121 


accklcnt  one  of  the  maids  had  r  ot  paffed  by  the 
garden. — He  then  cried  oi:t  in  agony,  help  I  help 

The  girl,  who  was  terrified  by  the  found  of  his 
voice,  ran  quickly  to  the  hoiife  to  fearch  for  the  -key, 
and  hafhly  opened  the  door.    By  fo  doing,  indeed, 
the  nail  was  torn  out  of  his  foot ;  but  the  wrenching  of 
it  ont  caufed  Ibch  violent  pain,  that  he  actually  fainted, 
i  and  funk  fenfeiefs  on  the  ground.    The  girl  r:ui  ter- 
i  riiied  to  her  mailer,  to  tell  him  that  Wiiiiam  lay  half 
I  dead  in  the  garden.    Then  Mr.  Jones  and  his  whole 
family  haitened  ro  him, 

The  fad  light  inftantly  filled  them  all  with  compjdi- 
on  ;  and  Mr.  Jones  fcnt  directly  for  a  furgeon. 

While  they  waited  for  him,  Mr.  Jones  enquired 
how  he  had  received  this  terrible  wound  ;  and  hearing 
that  he  brought  it  on  himfelf,  gave  him  a  very  forci- 
ble w^arning.  My  fon  faid  he,  tliy  fuftbrings  are  the 
confequence  of  thy  impatiincr.  When  any  thing  difa* 
greeable happens  tons,  we  Ihould  guard  againl\  anger, 
and  rather  try  to  compofe  ourfelves,  that  we  may 
think  of  a  remedy,  than  give  way  to  palhon  :  if  we  can- 
not hnd  one,  w  e  mult  wait  patiently  till  circumilances 
alter.  Through  irripatiftice  -die  ahuays  make  thi-gs 
■worfe.  If  you  had  waited  quietly  till  Ibme  one  came  by 
the  garden,  you  might  have  Ix^gged  them  to  releafe 
you  out  of  your  pnfon,  in  which  you  had  not  been 
long  confined,  and  tiicn  you  would  not  have  hurt  your 

I'  foot.  Now  the  furgeon  came,  and  bound  up  the 
would,  and  flirugging  up  his  Ihoulders,  faid,  this  little 
impaiient  boy  will  be  confined  a  fortnight  or  three 
weeks  at  leaft. 

Three  weeks  ]  faid  William,  what  a  foolilh  creature 
I  have  been  I  I  wiihed  not  to  remain  a  quarter  of  an 
hour^n  the  garden,  now  mult  I  be  Ihutup  three  weeks 
or  more  in  my  room,  fuffering  great  pain  I 
5  The  thing  was  done,  and  could  not  be  recalled.  He 
Svas  carried  home,  and  forced  to  fit  a  month  in  his  room 
U'ithhis  leg  upon  a  (tool ;  fuffering  great  pain,  becaufe 
the-  nail  was  rufly  which  he  drove  into  his  foot,  and 
1}  tiie  wound  did  not  readily  heal.    While  his  play-fellows 

i 


E  I.  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


were  enjoying  theaifelves  in  the  garden,  he  was  obhg.- 
ed  to  have  the  wound  dreffed,  and  have  ibme  powder •  3 
apphed  to  it,  to  eat  away  die  proud  fleih. — Oh  !  the 
powder  made  it  bui-n  hke  £re. 


€  H  A  P  T  E  Ft  XXiy. 

THE  greater  gart*  of  the  following  morning  was 
employed  in  dreiling  Mary  like  a  doU.    At  firit 
they  put  her  on  a  pair  of  itirf  Itays,  and  as  ilie  had  ne- 
ver v/orn  Hays  with  bones  in  thein  before,  fhe  feemed 
in  fetters,  and  could  hardly  draw  her  breath.    Then  I 
the  halr-dreiTer  came ;  he  put  her  hair  in  papers,  ; 
which  ufed  to  flow  in  natural  locks  on  her  neck  and  ; 
fhoiilders,  twiiled  them  very  hard,  and  pinched  theiq 
Avith  hot  irons.    Poor  Mary  trembled,  becaufe  fne  ex- 
peclctl  every  moment  that  the  hot  irons  would  touch 
her  forehead  or  cheeks.    Every  momeer  ilie  ailved  if  , 
it  would  not  loon  be  done  ^  but  he  begged  her  to  have  ^ 
patience,  and  after  curling  and  frizzing  her  hair  above 
an  hour,  he  bid  her  look  in  the  glafs,  and  Ihe  faw  a  | 
little  face  peeping  out  of  a  curled  wig.    She  had  then  3 
-  a  liJk  flip  laced  tight  to  her  lhape,  and  over  it  a  long  , 
gauze  drcfs  fo  lluck  out  with  trimuilngs  and  artificial 
i towers  that  ihe  could  fcarcely  move,  Ihe  was  fo  incum-  | 
bered  with  finery.  | 
All  this  being  over,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  drefied  1 
with  more  care  than  ufual,  out  of  refped  to  die  pro-  ^ 
fclTor,  and  that  they  might  appear  with  propriety  in  a  ; 
company,  vdiere  every  one  tried  to  outlhine  his  neigh-  : 
]>our,  by  the    richnefs  and  talk  difplayed  in  their  . 
.clothes  and  ornaments,  they  flepped  into  a  coach,  and  j 
.drove  in  liate  to  the  wedding.  ! 

There  they  found  a  large  company,  amoundng  at  | 
icafl  to  forty  perlbns,  all  drelTed  in   the  molt  fu perb 
manner.    Even  Pv'Ir.  Goodman  had  a  new  wig  on,' 
and  a  coat  he  only  wore  on  particwiar  occafions.  The) 


?vl  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y.  123 

n  company  waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  profelTor 
and  his  bride,,  who  were  gone  to  proniife  before  the  al- 
ter to  love,  fupport,  and  take  care  of  each  o:her,  in 
iicknefsaiid  in  health. 

>xO\s-  they  entered,  the  profeiTcr  led  his  bride,  and 
rhey  both  feenied  to  rejoice  that  they  h:A  found  a 
frierid  with  whom  they  could  divide  the  forrows  and 
pleafures  of  life,  and  all  the  vilkors  rejoyceu  vvith 
thern,  and  wifhed  that  they  might  throuoii  a  lou^r 
life  enjoy  their  prefent  hnppinefs. — The  profei'ior 
left  the  room,  but  foon  returned,  leading  in  an  old 
grey-headed  man,  in  whofe  coLUitenance,  though  full 
of  v.  riiikles,  there  appeared  more  cheerfulnefj.  than 
could  have  been  e>-pected,  conlldering  li'is  advanced 
sge. 

Behold  ray  fatlier,  faid  he  to  the  company,  bowing 
refj^eflfuliy.  The  father  v.  ho  gave  me  life  i  cannot 
prefent  to  vou,  for  he  has  been  a  long  time  in  his 
grave;  but  this  generous  man  has,  ever  iliice  his 
tieath,  taken  his  place,  and  educated  me  with  all  tha 
care  and  afi:ection  of  a  father.  He  noc  only  (here  the 
tears  ran  down  his  cheeks)  procured  me  food  and 
cloathing,  but  he  took  care  to  have  me  inlrrucled. 

My  fortune,  my  rank,  my  dear  wife,  all,  all,  I  owe 
to  the  goodnefs  of  this  excellent  man.  He  v.  as  fo  aifed- 
ed  that  he  coukj  not  fay  more  ;  he  lilently  preifed  the 
refpedable  old  man's  hand,  unable  to  utter  another 
word. 

The  bride  approached,  and  taking  from  her  huf- 
band  the  hciiid  which  he  held,  Ihe  kilfed  it,  faying, 
\vorthy  man,  from  yoiu:  hands  I  received  my  huf- 
band. 

The  whole  company  was  affecfled,  particularly  when 
the  prof^dbr  addreifed  them,  faying,  my  frinds,  if 
to-day  you  enjoy  any  pleafure  in  feeing  a  fellow  crea- 
turedpppy,  you  mult  afcribe  it  all  to  my  benefact- 
or. 

This  benefactor  was  his  godfather,  whom  he  had  be- 
fore mentioned  to  Mr.  Jones  ;  he  was  affedled  in  his 
ture,  and  after  wiping  away  a  tear  v/hich  flowed dowa 
L  2 


S24 


ELEMENTS    O  T 


his  venerable  cheek,  he  falci,  I  have  not  done  more 
tnuaany  nian  would  have  done  in  1123^  place.    But  it 
gladdens  ray  old  age  ;  I  rejoice  that  I  have  lived  to  fee 
3  ujan  happy,  whom  I  contributed,  in  feme  meafnre,- . 
to  inake  virtuoiife.  ■ 

iijs  kneefe  ilioak,  aad  he  looked  round  for  a  chair  on  : 
y>hkh  he  co'.dd  lit.  The  proieiibr  inAantly  obfervedl 
it,  and  taking  hini  by  the  hand  into  another  room,  he  j 
conduaedbhi)  zo^ioh,  :\-id  {ut  down  by  him.  Par-| 
dan  ;  he,  tor  openly  proclaiming^ 

your  be  w  that  yoa  feck  to  hide  the  ; 

£,ood  ,v  .WD  ail  the  world  ;  but  my  heart  ; 

.i  ;  '  r-ib'y  that  I  owed  all  my  happi-j 

ixels  to  you,  thaf  £  could  not  remain  filcnt.  O,  my 
Iccord  fatljer,  1  have  oily  lejtihed  my  gratitude  by 
"Vi^ords;  can  1  do  any  thit^g  10  give  you.  a'  IVibftantial  ^ 
proof,  that  I  have  net  forgotten  what  you  have  done'' 
for  me  ?  can  I  give  you  a  pi  oof  of  my  grai-'itude I  hei 
good  old  man  iighcd,  but  did  not  fpeak. 

Dearcif  Sir,  continued  the  profeifor,  if  I  can  ferve  ; 
you  in  any  refpect",  give  me  but  a  him,  and  I  will  fly  J 
to  obey  you.    Oidy  procure  me  the  pleafure,  this  hap- 
py day,  of  proving  that  I  am  greatful. 

I  want  nothing,  replied  the  old  man  ;  I  have  only  a  | 
fhort  time  to  bye.    But  my  relation,  Mr.  Goodman,! 
has  a  large  family  ;  the  iticome  he  receives  for  being  1 
T.ifner  of  a  grammar-fchool  is  fmall,  yet  he  has  taken  * 
care  to  educate  his  children  in  the  belt  manner.  His 
eldeil  fon  ought  £o  go  to  the  univerlity  the  next  year; 
but  how  is  the  poor  man  to  maintain  him  ?  If  you 
could  get  him  placed  tiiere  on  the  foundation — 

Say  no  more,  interrupted  the  profeffor,  holding  out. 
his  hand  ;  I  promife  to  take  charge  of  him,  he  lhall  go^ 
with  me  to  Oxford,  and  I  will  take  the  fame  care  of; 
kini  as  if  he  v/as  my  own  fon. 

The  old  man  was  juil  beginning  to  exprefs  the  plea-  ; 
fore  this  promife  gave  him,  v,  lien  IMr,  Jcmes  entered^ 
the  room.  He  rclpecttuh)'  and  cordially  fliook  the; 
profeubr  by  the  hand,  laying,  WvU-thy  man,  I  pray  i 
you  allow  me  to  call  you  irieud  :  I  have  already  ieit  al 


M  O  H  A  L  I  T  Y- 


fincere  efteem  for  your  talents  and  learning  ;  hi:t  r.o\t 
,  k  is  increafed  to  veneration,  nov.*  I  perceive  that  in 
your  proiperlty  you  remember  the  beneiits  you  received 
m  a  itate  oi  poverty.  Gratitd^  exalts  a  iruin  much 
higher  tha-fi  Uarning. 

The  pi-ofeiTor  then  conducted  his  tsvo  gueils  to  the 
table,  where  ihereilof  the  company  waited  for  them; 
it  was  covered  with  che  moft  coitly  dainties  ;  but  how 
I  taftelefs  were  thev,  compared  with  thepleafure  he  had 
received  from  the  converiation  with  his  benefact- 
or \ 

r  After  fome  hours  the  company  rofe  from  table.  To 
fliake  off,  by  a  little  mccion,  the  fatigue  of  litcing  fo 
long,  they  divided  into  parties  in  the  drawing-room, 
every  one  chooihio-  the  companion  he  v.  iihed  to  clieat 
ana  laugh  with. 

The  children  foon  coUecied  together,  and  they  all 
agreed  to  go  into  the  garden  to  amuie  themielves. 
There  were  ten  whom  the  ^rofeiior  had  invited  with 
their  parents.  They  yvere  all  opprefTed  by  ths  ^virmtli 
of  a  ciofe  room,  in  which  they  h«.u  been  confined  above 
two  hours,  fciiTw«il',' able  to  breathe,  and  iighing  for 
(f  eih  air,  liTce  lifh  out  of  water. 

^"I'^ow  th-^y  fan  down  itairsinto  the  garden  ;  and  talk- 
ed of  all  kinds  of  plays.  The  boys  propofed  a  race, 
and  as  there  were  more  boys  than  girls,  they  agreed 
to  run.  But  it  was  not  very  agreeable  to  Mary  ;  her 
hair,  her  l^ays,  and  gauze  drefs,  all  prevented  her 
getting  foremost  in  the  courfe.  She  had  fcarcely  fet 
o^""  when  her  breath,  failed,  and  Ihegot  fucha  fhrch 
i^i  her  fide^  that  Ihe  was  obliged  to  itop  to  recover  her 
breatli.  Slue  made  a  feeond  attempt,  and  exerted  ail 
her  ftrength  to  overtake  her  play-feliosvs  ;  but  a  rofer 
huih  caught  one  of  her  flounces  and  tore  it.  She  difen- 
gaged  herieif,  and  advanced  a  third  time,  but  a  bough 
go:  entaiigled  in  her  curls,  and  difcompofed  her  hcad- 
drefs.  Moil  of  the  other  g-irls  lhared  the  fame  fate,  for 
itliey  were  ad  loaded  with  ornaments. 

Thefe  accidents  made  Mary  look  fooliih,  the  bovs 
to  laugh  at  the  iittie  woman,  and  iiie  wiihed 
L  3 


126  ELEMENTS  OF 


her  finery  a  hundred  miles  off.    To  avo'd  their  rl 
c^i'e,  <i:tu\  rned  down  a  walk  by  hvrleii;  to  gather 
^y'^^^p'y  t^r  her  mother.    Slse  law  on  ail  iides  beauti,, 
Hovvers,  and  bent  forward  to  pUiek  them  ;  hnt  that 
h^^;        :  .-^v'^  do  wirliout         !i   a-ouble,  becaiJe  her 
^-'i^        ~      '"t  her  vvdiv-ii  ?:-e  aciccopted.  to  itoop. 

<'V  ^  e^.ation,  ihe  nipped  :toui  the  party  to  leek 
f'  :r  her  mother.  Slic  met  lirr  juO;  errceriiig  ri^e  garden^ 
and  reqreiied  her  to  put  her  hair  in  order,  aud  hide 
J'^-'i-'' --H' had  made  in  her  gov/a,  that  the  boy$ 
Dii-vbr  not  lauo^h  at  her.  Shall  we  not  co  home  ibon  >■ 
aikedlhc.  • 

We  Ibad  probably  r-main  here  thr'^e  or  four  houii 
more,  be:ore  >.ve  think  of  taking  leave  of  our  civil 
frien(i&.  tint  why  do  yon  v/iiu  to  go  home  lb  ibon?; 
)0  I  ba\-e  i  i  ve  cQVi^pany  and  aumieiuent. 

And  of  biat  ufc  is  all  that,  laid  Mary,  when  I  can- 
c  .jo\'  iijy  thing?  If  I  had  on  my  cotton  jacke 
?nvi  itr-.-w  bat,  then  I  fliouid  be  merry,  I  Ihoukl  run 
S'tr^!  I'vu.  ;  but  in  th's  dref^,  I  ambonmd  like  a  prifoner*|| 
Si)'netiti!Co  my  hr.r  Y'-  kIcs  iiie,  my  feathers  and  fiowerJI 
keep  my  head  iiiii,  and  my  days  cc"'*' bnsally  hurt  me/ 
W^'hen  I  begin  to  pbiy,  my  bounces  or  flo\vc»--v  are  ia 
fny  way,  and  e^/cry  tree  catches  my  frock. — Nay,  the 
boys  tread  on  mv  train  on  purpofe  to  iee  me  look  fool- 
liin  Prey,  dear  mctlier,  go  iiome  fo®n,  that  I  may 
l^et  ridof  this  diiiigreeablc  drels  ! 

Poor  girl,  anl\vercd  Mrs.  jones.  I  pity  yon.  T 
kiiow  very  well  that  a  lorig  train,  Ifays  with  bones  in 
thein,  and  tangled  hair,  are  very  inconvenient,  and 
that  yon  cannot  be  as  eafy  and  gay  as  yon  wiih.  Fol! 
that  rcafcn  I  have  not  till  now  teized  yon  with  fuch 
i.feleis  parts  of  drefs;  a  good  girl  requires  no  orna* 
ments;  if  Ihe  keeps  her  perion  clean,  and  puts  hei 
clothes  on  in  «n  orderly  manner,  people  will  onl; 
look  at  her  good  h  uno  r<^d  cbbging  bice.  But  to-da 
you  even  wiihed  t.>  be  Jreiied..  an?.'.  1  i::rl  a  mind  to  l€? 
you  feel  how  nuun  more  cc  .  ^^  onld  hav 

been  in  your  muilin  frock  a;:  IVy  now 

Gompofe  yourfeh"  5  to  iri^:rrc  v»  at  mis  tiKie  ad  yv\li  U 


MORALITY. 


over  I  I  will  comb  out  your  hair,  and  let  you  ha\e 
yoMr  little  jacket  and  Ib^aw  hat. 

All!  it  CO- morrow  were  but  come  !  continued  ma- 
ry. 

But  wiihlng  will  not  bring  it  a  moment  fooner,  in- 
terrupted Mr*.  Jones.  "Be  patient,  go  and  jo.n  your 
companions,  and  take  care  no:  to  appear  o.it  ot  hu- 
mour, Jei\  you  ihould  diibrb  their  pieafures,  which 
will  not  eaie  you,  though  you  mayteize  them  ;  only 
complain  lo  your  friends  of  vexation  which  cani.ot  be 
reme  iicd  ;  play-fellows  are  not  to  be  put  out  of  their 
way  by  the  inconveniences  you  iuiFer. 

Mjry  prom i fed  to  govern  her  temper,  and  forced 
herfelf  CO  look  as  clieerful  as  fhe  couid  with  a  pain  in 
her  head  and  iide. 

She  went  up  to  Leonora,  a  rich  Baronet's  daugh- 
ter, and  taking  her  good-naturedly  by  the  arm,  fhe 
faid,  come,  Leonora,  let  us  ta];e  a  walk  round  the 
garden  ;  the  rac«  does  not  iuit  well  with  oar  fine 
holiday  dreiit:s. 

But  LeoTxOra  was  very  pro^id,  and  drew  her  arm 
haltily  back,  fayuij^,  pray  ,Mifs  Jones  take  care,  or 
you  will  rumplt  tke  la=.e  on  my  lleeves.  She  then 
drew  her  head,  bridled  her  chin,  and  ti.rned  up 
her  nofe,  as  much  as  co  lay,  a  tradefnian's  daughter 
like  you  ought  nor  to  be  fo  familiar  with  me.  The 
lace  on  rnv  drefs  is  very  rich,  and  tlie  flowers  the 
fineil  that  have  lately  couie  from  France,  continued 
Ihe  ;  my  moiher  p^jr^haied  them,  that  I  might  ha^'e 
fofnediing  to  dii\inguilh.  mf ,  ^vhfn  I  Vvas  ibreed  to  mix 

with  no- body  knows  \  ^  ;      .     ,;a  a  young  ia.ly  of  a 

good  iamily,  and  it  iis  iiiJ  .  p^Ci  .c.ble  to  fee  citizens, 
daughters  imitate  in  every  thing  people  of  condition^, 
laid  the  lady  who  ib  often  vUits  ,  my  niotLor,  Lady 
Upi\art.  I  had  ih^Sie  p-.rPie  bucldes  lately  fi?nt  hoiiae;; 
they  were  bo  ght  of  ti"ie  Prince  of  W  ales,  jeweller  :^ 
what  padler  fat  youKs  1  never  fav/  any  th^ng  fo  vul-- 
^iir.  I  put  mi  -0  o;^  lor  tn<i  £ru  time  when  riungai- a 
private  coucert  before  the  ^Prince.  For  you  Uivd 
know  thati-  am  allowed  'to  >;lng  charmingly  j  Lord 


I2o 


ELEMENTS  OF 


Smoothtongiie,  who  dined  at  our  hoiiferhe  other  day, 
faid,  that  I  had  a  fine  angeac  Italian  voice.  He  fpoks 
iu  French  to  mc  too  for  half  an  hour,  and  declared, 
that  I  prattled  like  a  native  of  France.  I  fliall  fooa 
begin  to  leard  Italian  ;  it  is  not  very  difficult,  but  no- 
thing indeed  is  diiiicalt  to  me;  I  lhali  be  able  to  fpeak 
it  in  fix  nioiitlis. 

Thus  did  llic  run  on,  till  poor  Mary  was  quite  wea- 
ry of  her  fooiifh  pride  and  chat,  and  longed  to  leavtf 
her,  to  enjoy  her  vain  thoughts  alone*  She  looked 
anxioufly  round  for  an  opportunity,  and  faw  a  young 
Luly  coining  whom  Ihe  had  been  in  company  with  be- 
fore. Slieinllantly  left  Leonora,  and  joined  Charlotte, 
faying,  will  you  take  a  walk  with  me,  for  this  is  a 
fweet  garden  ?  With  all  my  heart,  anfwered  flie  ; 
and  they  turned  down  another  wall-:,  and  left  Leono- 
ra with  her  fine  lace  and  p;ii\e  buckles  to  count  her 
fleps,  and  look  in  vain  at  the  trees  ior  admirati- 
on. 

How  came  you  to  walk  v/ith  that  proud  Mifs  Leo- 
nora aiked  Charlotte. 

By  chance,  faid  Mary  ;  but,  believe  me,  I  was 
very  glad  to  leave  her.  She  has  been  talking  as  if 
file  alone  were  wife,  and  ail  the  rcit  of  the  v/orld 
fools. 

Yes,  yes,  replied  Charlotte,  laughing,  flie  has  of- 
ten fpoken  to  me  in  the  fame  (lyle  ;  I  have  known 
her  a  long  tiinc.  '  She  can  only  r^;ik  of  her  accompliih- 
ments,  herfme  ciouhes  and  rank;  Ihe  dcfpifes  ocher 
people,  and  all  that  ihcy.  have  learned.  It  is  true 
ihe  has  acqviired  leveral  accomplinnntnts,  for  her  fa- 
ther has  a  iar^c  U)y:\A:-e  ;  but  lenfe  llic  ctrta.iily  wants, 
cr  ilie  would  not  talk  lo  much.  I  wiihed  to  h:r  e  io- 
ved  her  ;  biu  (iii.c  iiie  beha'xs  to  me  a;,  u'  1  -v.  oie  no- 
thijig  compared  to  her,  i  leave  her  to  her  own  foily. 

'I'he  reit  of  die  company  gathered  round  thefe  rvvO 
<i;irls,  and  all  agreed  riiat  Leonora  was  ha-ighty  and 
fooitlh.  Let  her  ^o,  laid  Cnurles ;  a  miis  wno  knovvs 
fb  much  is  not  iit  comr^;:)'  for     j  we  mi^i^ht  rumpk 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  T. 


the  bee  on  lier  fine  drefs.— Who  will  play  at  qiieflions 
and  conirnands  ? 

I,  I,  cried  they  all,  and  away  they  ran  to  a  feat  as 
the  upper  end  of  the  garden,  to  begin  the  play. 

This  was  the  right  play  for  the  girls ;  they  could  a- 
tnnfe  themfelves  without  being  teazed  by  their  floVinccs 
and  feathers.    Every  child  mu{\  relate  a  (lory,  recollect 
j  jSL  riddle,  a  little  fong,  or  a  proverb  ;  and  thofe  who 
I   could  not  call  one  to  mind  imediatcly,  were  obliged  to 
I   to  pay  a  forfeit.  This  always  furnilhwi  fomething  to  joke 
and  laugh  about,  and  the  company  foon  became  io 
merry,  that  their  laughing  cchoixi  all  round  the  gar- 
den. 

The  haughty,  vain  Let)nora,  w  ho  faw  herfelf  ex-, 
eluded  from  this  ainufevr^ent,  wa*  ready,  to  bite  her 
nails  with  vexation.    She  walked  up  and  down  the 
path  with  a  grave  ftep,  lookuig  at  thern  as  if  (he  ex- 
peded  to  be  invited  by  foitic  ont,  to  pla^  with  them  ; 
j   but  no  one  took  notice  of  her     She  pailed  by  with  a 
j   pretty  pocket-book  in  l>er  haml,   hoping  that  they 
j   would  aik  to  fee  it,  atKl  adtnire  its  lilver  clafp  and  en- 
I   amelied  figures.    But  inrtead  of  th«»t,  the  litcle  folks  bc^ 
gan  to  whifper,  and  then  bi=rft  inio  a  loud  laugh, 
Leonora  perceiving  that  they  were  laughing  at  her, 
;   turned  aw.iy  bluihing  with  anger,  and  at  lalt  began  to 
'  weep  becaufe  Ihc  could  not  vent  her  p^vlhon  on  them. 

Then  fhe  happened  to  meet  her  father,  who  w  as  a 
I  fenfible  man,  and  faw  with  pain  that  his  wife  fpoiled 
!  her  daughter.    What  is  the  matter  with  you?  Why 
;   do  you  w^eep  ?  Has  any  accident  l^fallen  you  ?  Ho\?- 
I   Ciouid    I    laugh  ?    anfv/ered    fne  ;    thole  children 
i   have  no  manners.    They  lit  therg  together,  and  largh 
and  play  without  inviting  me.    They  appear — what 
they  are,  poor  vulgar  creatures ;  I  ought  not  to  have 
expeded  better  from  them — would  you  believe  it,  w  hen 
I  ^I^ailedby,  they  laughed  me  out  of  countenance.  Is 
not  that  very  rude  and  ill-bred? 

True,  faid  her  father,  it  was  indeed  very  rude  ; 
.1,  perhips,  you  offended  them  firih 
If  anfYrci  ed  ihe,  I  have  doae  uothmg  to  tiicai.  I 


I3Q  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

>vo  !  •  -fv  .  mvKilf  to  quarrel  with  luch. — Sh 

ih'^:  file  fiiw  a  frQwn  or  her  lather's 

biu\'v,  lii.v  rncii  i  tiiited  to  hn-n,  tiuiL  ihe  had  only  told 
then-  hi)\^^  j  or  I  Having  was  adr.rire-.i,  aiid  that  Ihe  fpoke 
Fre.  /  ^A'cil.    I  toid  ih^m  indeed,  added 

fhe,    ^  .   .       -  nyon  to  iearn  itaiian,  and  kfpt  them  at 
a  diitaace„  that  they  might. nor  tear  my  lace,  they 
^    ■     '   •    '       I/jonora  !  Leojiora  !  faidhe,  you  have 
Jf  y  or.  w.lh  to  be  rcipeded  and  lo- 
-   '     ]d  like  to  be  in  yoar  compa- 
fpeak  of  yourfeif  and  your 
certainly  difgult  them.    You  i 
i:..>;  .    .  -        ^^t^  obierve  their  good 

Gual:  < -^^^r  to  obtr^ae  ibe  little  yen 

knov  y      liiee':.-    i  a.^i  not  furprized 

that  '  \in).    If  3  V'l.iU  were  to  be  m 

m3/f.  if.  and  took  care 

to  .  :  -^l-jrior,  hccacfe 

J  i!>.uld  laugh  ill- 

-i::ti  ii'id  i^cv'i  her  home,. 
*  -  -  .  Lr.  -.iiC  carrui're,  that  he  would- ^ 

:.rL..c  .    .       .   '  ':.i,^^.  :\rd  ieiui  her   to  a  little  ^ 

farm-']ui       •  '  e  :;id  not  (con  appear 

to  h'dv-s  ■.) I ;ii  c    .  ...       =  1.-.  i3  loli/     A  fjoi  uiay 
t?earfinc  clothes;  but  a  foci  \^'ili  never  become  wife,  j 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


TH  E  other  children  continued  playing  with  the 
fame  cheerfulnefs,  and  they  became  quite  merry 
when  they  drew  out  the  forfeits.  One  held  the  forfeit  ' 
over  the  head  of  another,  v/ho  mentioned  fome  droll  ' 
thing,  w4iich  the  owner  was  to  do  to  redectn  ic, 
Son^ietimcs  they  were  obliged  to  turn  into  rhyme  what 
they  had  juft  faid,  nnd  to  fill  up  verfes  after  the  rhymes, 
cr  lait  words  in  each  line,  had  been  written  dow-n  Tvith  3 


MORALITY.  131 


.a  pencil ;  or  to  find  out  Ibmc  reiemblance  in  tv.  g 
things  which  appeared  to  be  very  different ;  for  inftance, 
between  a  carp  and  a  lark  ;  others' "were  commanded 
to  receive  fome  good  advice  from  each  of  their  play- 
mates ;  thus  was  the  amufemcnt  varied.  As  they  ^vere 
-civil,  good  natured  children,  they  toc^care  not  to  fay 
any  thing,  evea  in  joke,  vv  hich  could  oltend  the  relt. 
Endeavouring  to  pleafe  each  other,  they  were  fo  plea- 
fed  theinielves,  that  they  grew  more  and  more  delight- 
I  cd  with  their  fpcrts,  and  ere'ry  moment  furnilhed  a 
^new^  fubject  to  joke  and  laugh  at. 

They  might  have  piaycd  till  they:  were  tired,  if  they 
had  not  been  interrupted.  The  twilight  had  already 
over  taken  them^  r;nd  ibme  of  them  wiihed  ihr  a  light, 
!  that  they  might  cor.  Lin  1.1,6  to  play  m  the  fuiiimer-lioufe. 
But  they  %vere  Itopped  ihorc  by  a  fcrvant,  who  came 
to  tell  them  that  fupper  v/aited  for  them. 

What,  eat  fo  foon  iio-ain  ?  faid  Charles,  a.  little  an- 
gnly  ;  I  wilh  tiiey  w  ould  keep  the  fupper  to  themfeives, 
and  allow  us  to  remain  together,  and  play  till  it  is  time 
to  gO  home.  Bvit  they  were  obliged  to  go,  becaufe 
the  fervant  reminded  them  that  it  would  be  rude  and 
difrefpectful,  if  they  , did  not  attend  tlie  company  when 
they  were  fent  for. 

They  now  again  ail  furrounded  the  table,  and  took 
their  feats,  with  great  form.  The  greater  part  of  the 
guelis  began  to  eat  the  various  dainiies  fpread  before 
them,  though  they  did  not  feel  the  leal\  hunger*  On- 
ly Mr.  Jones,  the  pro^lTor  and  a  few  others,  content- 
ed themfeives  with  fome  fruit  and  hght  things,  and 
fought  for  their  pleafure  in  converfation  with  thofe 
who  fat  next  to  them. 

But  thefe  p^rues  were  foon  interrupted  by  one  of  the 
guelts,  who  itood  up  with  a  bumper  in  his  hand,  and 
drank  to  the  health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom  ;  inoft 
of  the  company  followed  his  example,  and  filled  out  a 
bumper  to  the  fame  toalt ;  but  a  few  of  them,  as  well 
as  Mr.  Jones,  only  lifted  the  giafs  to  their  lips,  and 
tafted  a  few  drops. 

Aiterwards  new  toall?,  or  healths,  v/ere  called  for, 


ELEMENTS  OF 


^nd  the  glalTes  were  qtiickly  emptied  ,  but  the  moft 
reafonable  part  of  the  company  only  lipped  a  httle  to 
every  toart,  that  they  mi^ht  not  injur*  their  health  hj 
drinking  t^o  much. 

A  certain  young  man,  who  was  fo  fooiifti  as  to  be- 
lieve, that  the^  was  ibmething  noble  and  manly  in 
being  able  to  drink  freely,  remarked  that  ]Vli\  Jones 
had  not  emptied  his  glafs  when  the  toart  came  to  him. 

Very  well,  Mr.  Jone§,  laid  he,  fnecringly,  I  be- 
lieve you  pafs  the  bottle  without  hJiing  yoiu*  glafs  j 
fie  for  lhame  I 

Why  ihould  I  be  afhamed,  anfwercd  Mr.  Jonei; 
have  I  done  fomething  wrong  ? 

You  are  very  right  to  be  fure,  iald  the  otlier ;  but 
w  hen  one  is  in  company  it  is  ridiculous  to  be  fuiguUr. 
But,  continued  Mr.  Jones,  why  jDuft  I  drhik?  Is  it  to 
raife  or  deprefs  my  jpihts  ? 

Certainly,  faid  the  drinker,  to  rai^c  roiiX  ipirits ; 
you  iee  how  lively  I  am,  and  ail  the  honeit  iellow^ 
who  drink  s\  ith  me. 

Allow  me  then,  returned  Mr.  Jcnes,  to  drink  jui"^ 
ftg  mr:ch  as  agrees  with  me,  and  i  liiall  be  in  a  very 
goodhumoi:r;  but  if  I  am  periuaded  to  drink  more,  Ii 
ihould  to-morrow  pafs  a  very  uncomfortable  day.  jl 

The  young  man  laughed,  and  ridiculed  his  pr^ 
dence  ;  but  he  was  not  to  be  moved  by  a  foolilh  laiigh,^ 
and  let  them  pufh  about  the  glafs,  and  drink  irelh, 
toafis,  without  forgetting  his  refolution. 

They  had  not  gone  on  long  at  this  rate,  before  thofc 
who  had  drank  molt  loft  the  ufe  of  their  reafon.  They 
all  fpoke  loud  together,  fo  that  the  confjfion  of  voices 
in  the  room  foon  became  almoft  infupportable.  Some 
began  to  chatter,  and  to  tell  all  their  fecrets,  which, 
as  long  as  the  were  fober,  they  had  very  carefully 
concealed.  Others,  who  were  always  ferious  when 
they  were  fober,  faid  fuch  abfurd,  foolilh  things,  that 
even  the  children  could  not  help  laughing.  Several  be- 
gan to  quarrel,  and  it  is  impoilible  to  fay  where  they 
might  have  ended,  if  the  profeffor,  and  a  few  more  ra- 
ticyial  people,  had  not  beea  very  anxious  to  calm  thefl^ 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


'33 


bot  heads.  Mrs.  Jones  was  very  uneafy  during  tliis 
tumult,  and  looking  every  now  and  then  at  her  hiifb- 
and,  file  lighed  out  her  wiOi  to  get  away  ;  for  tile 
boneit  fellows  were  now  fo  ele^rttted,  that  no  one  was 
fheltei  ed  from  infult.  One  of  her  neighbours  had  ab* 
ready  thrown  a  glafs  of  burgundy  on  her  riiftie,Jie- 
caufe  his  hand  Ihook  fo  that  he  could  not  carry  it  to  liis 
mouth,  and  flie  was  every  moment  in  fear  leil  he  ihouid 
throw  one  over  . her  gow,a. 
|j  •  Luckily  her  unenfuiefs  xlid  not  laft  a  long  time.  She 
[j  faw  her  fervant  in  the  hall,  who  made  iigns  that  ihe 

i coach  was  ready.  She  then  flipped  out,  quietly  with 
her  hulbaud  and  children,  and  returned  home  to 
xeft. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

THE  next  morning  Mr.  Jones  andhisfamily  rofc 
at  their  ufual  hour,  and  ail  were  .cheerful  and 
well.  PoorMary  only  had  caufs  .to complain,  that 
had  paffed  a  very  relUefs  night,  and  rofe  with  a  head- 
ach.  She  faid  her  hair  was  fo  troublefome,  that  flie 
could  not  deep  fiv.e  minutes  together;  and  ilie 
added,  in  a  forrowful  voice,  that  Ihe  hc^jed  Ihe  fnoiild 
not  again  be  put  under  the  hands  of  the  hair-dreiT- 
cr. 

Mrs.  Jones  then  v/ent  to  manage  her  family  affairs, 
Mary  and  Charles  to  their  mailer,  and  Mr.,  Jones  .  to 
the  compting-houfe,  where  he  did  bafinefs  for  fome 
hours. 

After  he  had  done,  he  went  to  the  Exchange,  and 
called  on  fome  of  the  perfons  with  whom  he  had  been 
in  company  the  evening  before.  Jie  \^as  not  admitted 
at  the  tirfl  houfe,  becaufe  the  fervant  faid  his  mafter 
was  ftill  in  bed,  and  was  fo  fick  tliat  he  was  obliged  to 
take  feveral  draughts  of  chamomile  tea.  The  fecond 
^perfon  lie  vificed  was  only  juft  rifen,  though  it  ^vas 
V  M 


134  ^  L  E  xM  E  N  T  S  OF 

near  twelve  o'clo.ck.    He  v/as  fitdng  in  an  arm  chair^ 
and  looked  as  pale  as  deaU"^. 

Mr,  Jones  alked  him  how  he  did  this  morning  ? 

\'  ery,  very  Tick,  faid  he  ;  I  drank  too  much  yef- 
terday.    I  have  often  relblved  to  be  moderate,  for 
<\m  not  very  fond  of  wine,  but  one  is  led  away  by 
ample.    When  I  am  in  company  where  they  pulli  thel 
bottle  round,  and  call  me  a  milk-fop,  to  avoid  bein? 
langhedat,  and, to  look  like  a  man,  I  imitate  them,  . 
and  forget  n)y  refolution.    I  drink  one  glafs,  and  ano- I 
rher,  and  another,  thinking  always  that  one  more 
rannot  be  of  much  confequence.    So  I  go  on  till  the 
Ipirit  mounts  into  my  brain,  and  then  I  fcarcely  know 
or  care  vhat  J  do.    But  I  feel  it  with  a  vengance  after- 
wards, here,    (He  now  itruck  his  liit  againft  his  head) 
faying,  am  i  not  a  fooliih  weak  man,  who  cannot  go- 
vern myfelf  ?  To  tickle  my  palate  foi*  a  few  moments, 
and  to  avoid  the  ridicule  of  fools,-  I  make  myfelf  Tick? 
and  out  of  hr.monr  foi'  whole  days  together,  and  brin^'j 
on  an  early  old  age.    I  am  .reckoned  an  .old  man  before 
my  time  ;  every  day  fome  feait  occurs,  and  I  go  to 
one,  to  forget  the  pain  I  fuffered  from  the  other. 
Look  at  my  red  face-,  and  fee  my  legs,  th^y  begin  to 
fwell ;  I  am  almo{\  afraid  I  lhall  fall  into  a  dropfy  ji; 
this  is  a  unl'erable  day  for  mc  ;  my  head  aches  as  if  it'*^ 
■\^  ould  buril,  and  1  am  fo  Ihipid,  that  I  fball  not  be 
able  to  do  any  liuiinefs.    This  morning  my  ftomach 
was  fo  fqueamiih,  I  could  not  touch  a -bit  of  breakfaft, 
and  I  know  I  ihall  not  relifh  a  mor&l  all  day;  and 
when  I  think  of  the  thcughtlefs  exprelfions  I  let  drep 
yellerday,  and  how  many  acquaintance  I  have  oifen- 
ded  by  my  filly  jokes,  I  am  ready  to  lhamp  with  in- 
xlignation  againft  myfelf. — But  you  look  very  well/| 

Yes,  anfvv'ered  Mr.  Jones,  I  never  was  in  better 
health  in  my  life.  The  company  and  the  fight  of  my 
rriend's  happinefs  haveTaifed  my  ipirits,  and  the  few: 
g-alTes  of  wine  liirank  did  uie  more  good  than  harm.  I' 
rofe  at  my  i,fual  honr,  and  have  already  doRe  .  iiiy  bu- 
finefsin  the  compting-houfe. 

Yon  are  a  happy  mnw — and  I  now  recollc<ft  that  I 
remarked  your  moderation  yefterday.  and  that  y^y' 


MORALITY. 


did  not  tlrlnk  more  than-you  tiionght  neceiTary  toraife 
your  fpirits,,  without  heating  your  brain.  \ou  are  a 
fober  man,  you  practifevi  a  Uttle  fdf-vlenial,  and  nov/ 
you  have  yourrev.ard  ;  yor.r  head  is  light,  and  you 
do  not  every  moment  Wee  yoar  lips  to  think  what  an 
irrefolute  fool  you  v\' ere  !  If  I  ooaid  but  follow  your 
example  ! 

It  has  long  been  a  fixed  principle  of  mine,  continued 
Mr.  Jones,  t/:at  lukotver  luili  enjoy  health  and  contenty 
mufi  be  moderaie,  I,  in  general,  drink  three  glalfes  ; 
and,  in  company,  four  or  five.  And  when  1  have 
drank  thefe,  I  have  (ione,  though  they  bring  in^a  va- 
riety of  the  richeil  wines,  if  I  found  out  that  drink- 
ing more  than  one  glafs  affeded  my  head  or  Itomach, 
luwbuld  be  con  ten  c  with  one. 

.  (Ths  other  lliook  him  by  the  hand,  and  alTured  him 
that  he  v/ould  try  to  (}ioXo  too. — Mr.  Jones  then  wilh- 
ed  that  he  might  not  again  forget  his  reiblution,  and 
left  hiin  to  pay  another  viiir. 

He  called  on  Mr.  Goodman,  and  found  him  alfo  un- 
1  "WelL  He  ri.bbed  his  forehead,  and  complained  of 
iownefs  of  fpirlis  and  htavineis.  Mr.  j  ones  was  far- 
prized,  becaufe  he  had  obferved  that  Mr.  Goodrtiaa 
was  a  very  fober  man,  and  he  expreiled  his  altonilh- 
nient,,  faying,  you  drank  very  little  wine,  why  are 
you  ilck  ! 

As  to  the  wine,  I  drank,  very  fparingly,  fa  id  Mr 
Goodman;  but  thofe  artificial  high-j'eafoned  diihes  do 
!  not  agree  with  rfiy  Itomach.    And  is  it  to  be  wondered 
1  at  r  The  cook  mixes  a  number  of  things  brought  from 
'  die  Ealt  and  Weft-Indies,  Germany,  France  and  Iia- 
I  ly,  together,  v/ ithout  thinking  what  effed  this  mix- 
I  fare  will  have  on  our  itomuchs,  or  how  injurious  it  is 
j  to  the  blood  ;  if  it  tickles  the  palate,  he  is  latisfied  Is 
I  it  poihble  that  fuch  a  hodge-podge  ftioald  digeil,  or 
I  that  fuch  artificial  compofnions  fiiould  not  injure  the 
^  blood,  and  interrupt  the  iimpie  courfe  of  nature?  Be- 
!  lieve  me,  Mr.  Jones  made  dAfnes  are  flihile  poifins. — - 
■    L  were  daily  to  indulge  myfelf,  I  believe,  that  in  a 
.  ycriFi  I  f  iould  fali  into  Ibrnc  lingering  dllbidcr,  or 


E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F  ] 

grow  meJancholy.  I  am  never  fo  well  as  when  I  haV» 
beef  or  rniuton  (imply  ilrefTed^  and  plenty  of  vegeta* 
b>L's.     What  do  you  fay  ? 

You  are  perfectly  right,  dear  Sir,  anfwered  Mr^ 
Jones  ;  my  food  is  always  very  fnnple  ;  I  never  have 
dairities,  or  two  lands  of  meat  at  my  table,  except  I; 
have  company  ;  and,  even  then,  I  take  care  not  to  eat 
more  than  iifnai,  becanfe  there  is  a  variety  of  dainties  ;^ 
for  if  tliere  are  txventy  diilics  before  me,  I  choofe  the ; 
moit  finiple  to  make  my  meal  of,  that  I  may  not  be-J 
come  heavy,  and  unable  lo  exercife  my  mind.  My| 
children  are  acciiftomed  to  the  fame  fare,  they  feldoiit 
ciriiik  tea  or  coffee ;   and  I  really  believe  that  their.' 
health  and  gaiety  arife  from  temperance.  j 

This  gave  Pvlr.  Goodman  an  opportunity  to  fpeak  o^" 
his  children  ,•  and,  from  his  children,  the  converfatiorx 
inien^ibly  turned  to  his  fchooi.  For  Mr.  Goodmar^' 
being  the  Ufher  of  a  grammer  fchoo],  the  greater  part 
of  ihe  labour  devolved  on  him-. 

Have  niar.y  learned  men  been  educated  at  your 
iViiool  ?  aiKed  Ivlr.  Jones. 

Of  learned  men,  f;^id  he,  I  cannot  much  boafl:,  mf.\ 
Ip.?S'i:v-9;  is  net  very  exterdive  ;  but  this  I  may  fay^l 
tlic..-;  If  .  ^r^l  young  men  have  left  our  fchooi,  of  whoiTi; 
I  'd:A  uot  alhafi:ed  to  own  that  I  had  a  hand  in  theiir^i 
c  wucation.  I  have  alio  c  altiiianLS,  who  are  worth/ 
•  ud-j{lrioL:S  men  ;  it  would  be  ib'aage  if  the  boys  didv 
Yivi  iiuprove  vv  i;en  they  are  lb  clofely  atrended  to.  \ 

Mr.  Jones  received  ib  much  pleaiure  from  Mr^: 
Gcodnian's  company,  that  .he  would  have  coaveried; 
iV'll  IvjiAoer  with  hiin^  if  he  had  not  heard  the  clock^ 
iL  u-ie  t  wo  before  he  thought  it  v.  as  near,  dinner  time,! 
lie  llarceJ  up,  and  faid,  Xam  very  forry  to  lea^'ajj 
you  ;  but  I  uji;lt  hallen  liome  to  give  my  family,  by" 
my  own  exactnels,  an  example  of  pauctuality. 

Good  mornif^.g  ;  pray  recollect,  whenever  bufmef^ 
calk  yoi,  to  iSriflol^  that  I  Tuali  be  glad  to  fee  yau. 


MORALITY.  137 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

"^ICJHSN  Mr.  Jones  returned,  he  was  witnefs  to 
V  V  ^  ^'^^y  difagreeable  fcene.  As  he  paifed  b/ 
tlie  parlour  door,  he  heard  a  very  loud  voice,  anci<m- 
gry  tone  :  he  opened  the  door,  and  faw  a  v/ornan  v/ith 
his  wife ;  {he  foamed  widi  rage,  and  was  loading  her 
V,  iidi  abufe.  He  had  fcarceiy  entered  the  room  when 
his  wife  caught  his  hand,  and  faid,  I  am  glad  you  are 
come  ! 

What  does  all  this  mean  ?  aHved  Mr.  Jones.  Do 
not  afked  me,  faid  Mrs.  Jones  ;  I  cannot  tell  you 
now. 

Yes,  cride  the  furious  v/oman,  flriking  her  fill:  on 
the  table,  J  will  foon  let  yon  fee  with  whom  you  have 
to  do  ;  yon  will  not;  dare  to  treat  me  fo  again.  Yon 
think,  indeed,  becaufe  you  are  a  rich  merchant's  wife, 
you  may  treat  as  you  pleale  a  poorperfon,  without  be- 
ing  called  to  account. — Your  fervant — it  ihall  coil  you 
dear,  I  promife  you  ;  you  will  haye  reafon  to  remem- 
ber me. 

Good  woman,  "  faid  Mr.  Jones,  what  is  the  matter  ? 
do  you  forget  that  you  are  in  a  decent  houfe  ?  if  you 
have  any  complaint  to  make,  if  you  have  been  uied  ill, 
,  moileraie  your  anger,  and  let  me  hear  quietly  v.  hat  it.- 
is. 

V/oman.    Be  fo  good  as  not  to  fpeak  fo  warmly 
yourfelf,  Mr.  Jones.    Begin. by  reproving  your  wife, . 
then  yon  may  fpeak  to  me. 

Mr.  Jones.    But  what  has  my  wife  done  ! 

IVonu-.yi.  She  is  a  wicl:ed  creature;  can  yon  ailc 
what  The  has  done?  Is  ilie  not  a  backbiter  ?  Bid  ihe 
pxOt  fay,  that  I  was  a  diforderly  waman,  who  neglect- 
ed my  family,  and  drank  all  l  eould  earn  or  beg  ?  And 
if  it  were  true,  what  bufmefs  had  Ihe  with  it — does 
ihe  give  me  money  to  buy  it  with  ! 


ELEIMENTS  OF 


Mr.  3*9"'  perhaps  iv-y  wltc  did  not  lay  \o  ~ 

froiq  whci  I!  hear  it  ? 

'>  ^'I'hjn.    0;j,  vo  ;r  krviint — aik  fuch .qne'iuons  c, 
^  ■'■■•^-•i.    I  aiG  iau  heJ  that  I  li^d  it  from: good  author  - 
tv  ;  y  I'i  y*^^  i^erd  hoc  troable  yo.jriclf  to  enquire  from 
^vhonl  I  ht  A-  d  it. 

Mr.  Jo:i:^.    C'jo!]  v;o]ua.n,  to  ci-r  the  matter  lliort, 
i  •>  who  .  .  ar.-i  :  wi'i  examine  in;:- 

-  :  .ao.i  of  J.;     )r,  yo-i  had  bettc . 

j^t'  b'j:iie  ;  and  if  e  any  real  coai- 

yo.;  lii.iy  :  ■  -e  wiie; .e vcr  \    ;  ^. 

-  ■.    If  ycii  iau- It  know  it — i  iiCc-.rd  it  at  llttlr 

;        Very  well,   I  will   enquirve  into  the 
:  -ad.  ?f  I  dntl  that  yo-:  ha  ;e  been  ceniV.red  bii- 
'  •       v'c  \\  ill  .ry  to  make  you  loni^  amends,  anc'l  wvr 
v/iie  v.  iu       y;v  !-  .  a/don  ;  for  ihe  ne\-er  pcriiiis  in  a 
errai'.     -a-'  ■  oi:  ....-^licd  with  this  promiic:^ 

^  '  -  oidd  \\v.  \  have  <?;oiie  on  ic  olding;  hwt 

.aa.  iu^  tJireateiied  to  lend  f.  '  .iable, 
:  -er  the  way  out  of  the  hoai.  ,  a  nt^f 

tiiiiav  u  f-  '•  'ay  any  i on ft;cr.  After  i.ttcring  foine. 
iu -re  ..■.■eii'ton.%  ike  w  ent  out,  and  iiun|/  tlie 

ia-ar  dy  h:irk,  thac  all  the  windows  ratded, 

.  MTes  i;hrew  herlelf,  pale  and  trenabiing, 
da-.a'    dJr.  Jones  tO-o  was  a  little  diiconcerttd 
■    '  '  ■    fdf  by  i}i:.  ^^  ■  ■        ■  'i '1  iar  iaa..d  ai..f 
•,  o meats   idea,  _  .  a-'v    char,    Y»aia  . 

n.wc  }  va;  cioae  to  cxah;ta,:';e  da 

I  win  raid  yaa  ;;d  L  kiiow  ,   i..      v„.al  Mrs.  Jones^ 
Id..  ;  \^  r,  y>?.,,  \  a  ••.  .d  far  aie  ;  but  jhe  was  lb  carelefs^ 
aaa  r--i  w   '    d  d;  an  odravagant  price  for  what  Ihey 
ciid,  tliat  1  ■  ,  a_,  :aned  to' nrake  looe  enquiries  con-- 
ccraiag  htr  character,  and  heard  that  ihe  was  a  drunk- 
ard ;  ;aal,  in  fliort,  a  v,  oaian  who  had  no  found  prin- 
cij  ic  b,  no  notions  of  order  or  religion.    At  the  lame- • 
ti'iic  fdrs.  dandford,  w  lioin  I  menrioned  to  you;  was^ 
recom amended  ro  nie  as  an  ijidudrioas  refpeclable  woman, 
who  had  feen  better  days.    I  then  left  her  fjiop,  and 
v/eni;  to  eiDploy  Mr?.  Sandford  j  I  fappofe  .(lie  has  heard 


i  a 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


of  lIi'.,  .li  w  ..-Tiic  to  vent  her  fpleen  on  m«.  'Imay 
hiive  meiiiiop.tjdiieE  vices ;  fui'  I  was  forry  to  hear  thac 
'a  woman,  whoi.c«uki  have  raaiiitaliied  her  family  m  a 
creditable  iiianner,  led  fuch  adiibrdtrly  life.  But,  if 
I  have  fpoken  of  ic,  it  niuft  have  been  in  this  room, 
for  you  kuow  i  never  meticioa  things  .of  .this  kind  oui: 
of  iny  owiL  fasnily  ;  beca.de  1  think  that  the  faults  of 
&ur  neighbou  rs  ihoi:M  only  be.expofed  to  o^r  family 
and  friends,,  by  v/ay  of  example:^  and  not  made  the  a- 
.UuUe;nen£  of  chofe  idle  hours  when  acquaintance  meet. 

I  now  recoUeif,  replied  INIr.  Jones,  that  you  fald 
fomerhing  of  this  kind  to  nie.  v^  hen  you  came  hc  m& 
from  Mrs.  Sandrbrd's;  bi-t  it  makes  me  very  nneafy  to 
find,  that  v\  hat  w£  lav  amoncrft  ourfelves  Ihould  be  re- 
peated.  ihere  mnit  be  a  icU-tale  in  our  houfe,  and  I 
'ihail  not  be  eafy  till  I  iind  out  wdio  it  is. 

lie  tlienfat  down  and  wrote  to  the  lather  of  little 
James,  who  was  the  favourite  play-feilov/ of  Charles, 
and  relatetl  the  whole  ax:clc(ent,  rcqucifing  him  to  en- 
quire whi(h  of  his  family  had  told  the  Itory,  and  from 
i\^hom  tjiey  had  heard  it. 

^  -He  returned  ibr  aniwer,  that  his  maid  had  been  gof- 
fiping  with  a  woman  at  her  Ihop,  and  repeatetljo  her 
'what  Jaines  hail  told  her  5  Charles  had  mentioned  it  to 
bim  v/hen  tliey  were  playing  togetlier. 

r^Ir.  Jones  inflantly  fent  ibr  Ciiark^,  and  related, 
^vvith  a'  (iii'Uirbed  countenance  and  voice,  in  v.'hat  adifa, 
ati;rceable  fituation  he  fourilfr^ft^poor  mother*  Charles 
-13  ready  tailied  tears  When  he  faw  his  mother  feated, 
,  a:e  and  tremblino;,  on  the  fofa ;  he  ran  to  her,  and 
_lUi^^-^'^.her,  laying,  pf^y  do  not        yourfelf,  left  you 
fliould.grow  lick 

But,  afi'ied  Mn-Jones,  do  yon  know  who  is  the 
rcaufe  of  all  this  vexation  ? — Thou  art — dion  hail  re- 
peated, out  of  the  lioufe,  what  thy  mother  mentioned 
in  confidence  to  mc. 

I;  anrvvcred  Charle?,  how  could  I  repeat  it  out  of 
tlie  honfe  ?  how  could  you  think  fuch  a  thing,  dear 
"  her  •  I  have  never  fpoken  a  word  to  this  wicked  wo- 
.  --;a  in  my  life. 


140  E"  L  £  M  E      T  S    O  F' 

I  believe  you,  interrupted  his  father,  but  you  have 
repeated  that  to  James,  which  your  mother  confidenti- 
ally imparted  to  me,  v/hich  flie  fpoke  in  the  ear  of  her 
friend. 

Charles  was  confufed,  and  owned  that  he  had  men- 
tioned it  to  James ;  but  he  did  not  fuppofe  that  he 
would  have  been  fo  thoughtlefs  as  to  have  told  it  to  the 
woman  again. 

He  merely  did  v/hat  yon  had  done  before,  faid  Mr, 
Jones  ;  he  only  told  the  maid,  and  did  not  fuppofe  that 
fhe  would  have  mentioned  it  again.  But  Ihe  carried  it 
to  the  woman^s  ear. 

This  account  frightened  and  aPtoniflied  poor  Chalers. 
He  wet  his  fick  mother's  hand  with  his  tears,  and  beg- 
ged hsr  to  forgive  him,  for  that  he  did  not  mean  any 
harm,  nor  could  have  gueiled  the  confequence  of  his 
folly. 

iLfervant  then  entered,  and  afi^ed  if  they  would  not 
have  the  dinner  brought  up,  for  that  it  had  been  ready 
above  two  hours,  and  wasalmoit  dried  to  a  chip  before 
the  fire. 

Mrs.  Jones  v/aved  her  hand  for  him  _  to  leave  the 
room,  and  funk  again  on  the  fofa,  faying,  I  cannot  re- 
lifli  a  bit  to  day— that  woman  has  taken  away  my  ap- 
petite. 

Nor  do  I  care  for  any  thing,  faid  Mr.  Jones. 

Now  Charles  wept  bitterly,  and  begged  his  parents^ 
to  tafte  fomething. 

Why,  alked  Mr.  Jones,  do  yon  wilh  us  to  eat  ?  it. 
would  do  us  more  harm  than  good.  See,  thoi-ghtlefs- 
child,  all  this  vexation  has  bccnoccajioned  by  yon  f  tat- 
tling^ 

Charles  was  ready  to  fnik  into  the  earth  with  tro  .sble, 
for  he  fincerely  loved  his  parer.ts;  yet,  he  now  fa\y 
that  he  had  made  his  mother  fick,  and  his  father  unta- 
fy.  This  ligiit  gave  him  great  pain,  and  he  prornifedi 
to  be  more  careful,  and  never  to  repeat  again  the  con- 
verfations  he  heard  in  the  faojiiy. 

I  believe,  faid  his  father,  that  you  are  very  i'o^VY 
for  the  trouble  you  have  caufed  us,    I  perceive  aifo^ 


O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


14T 


that  you  have  made  a  firm  refohjtion  never  to  chattel? 
fo  idly  any  more  ;  but  I  do.  not  yet  know  whether  yoii 
can  keep  yonr  word.  I  muft  for  fome  time  conUder 
'  you  as  a  child  who  lias  betrayed  his  father  and  mother, 
and  fend  you  out  of  the  room  when  we  are  fpeaking 
of  any  thing  we  wilh  to  keep  fecret.  Is  not  that  rea- 
■fdnabie  I 

Cliarics  acknowledged  his  fault,  fobbing,  and  again 
begged  his  mother  not  to  vex  herfeif,  or  it  v.  ouid  make 
film  cry  his  eyes  out. — -He  then  v/ent  to  look  for  his 
filter,  to  tell  her  all  that  had  happened,  how  pale  hi3 
mother  looked,  and  how  angry  his  father  ^vas — and 
prayed  her  to  tai.e  care  and  not  tell  any  family  fecrets 
to  her  couiin  Charlotte,  left  fhe  ihould  aifo  X*ex  her 
parents.  She  promifed  him,  and  he  gave  her  his  hand, 
laying,  that  ia  future,  he  would  be  careful  not  to  tallc 
for  the  fake  of  talking. 

They  had  now  ojily  to  confider  how  they  fiiould 
filence  this  troublefome  womaii,  NIr.  Jones  knew 
very  well  that  all  his  wife  had  faid  was  true ;  yet  he 
did  not  wifii  to  expofe  her  again  to  the  fury  of  inch  a 
woman.  He  went  tocher  himfelf,  and  offered  her  a 
guinea,  ifihe  would  hold  her  tongue,  and  let  the  mat- 
ter drop  ;  but  decrared  he  would  proceed  againil  her 
to  the  utmoi\  rigour  of  the  law,  if  fiie  pr3fumed  to  com(» 

his  houfc  again  ^  The  woman  knew  very  well  that 
her  conduct:  would  not  bear  examination,  aud  fearing 
'to  lofe  more^cuftomers,  Ihe  was  glad  to  accepc  of  th^ 
terms,  and  promil'ed  to  be  (^uiet^ 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R    XX  vTIL 


TH  E  following  morning  Mr.  Jones  received  a  not(i 
froiu  the  prolenbr,  ia  vvhicn.  he  requeued  him  to 
fpeud  that  afienioon  with  them  in  his  father- in-law 
gard-:^:!.    He  a  Ju red  him,  that  he.  had  been  much  mor- 


ELEMENTS  OF 


tiued  on  his  wedding  day,  in  not  being  able  to  enjoy 
the  fociety  of  his  friends.  He  added,  that  he  now  had- 
Oiily  invited  his  particular  friends  to  pafs  one  cheerful- 
arrernoon  in  friendly  converfation  before  his  departure. 

Mr.  Jones  had  really  fome  bufmefs  to' fettle,  and- 
was  not  willing  to  put  it  oii',  vvhile  the  defire  of  con~^ 
verinig  with  lo  many  ieniible  men,  the  greater  part  of 
whom  were  to  depart  the  next  day,  prevailed,  and- 
jnade  him  accept  the  invitation. 

The  queition  now  was,  whether  he  fliould  take  the 
children  with  him.  His  heart  inclined  to  take  them, 
becaufe  he  loved  them  tenderly;  but  he  wiflied  firil  to- 
know  if  they  had  behaved  in  fuch  a  manner  as  to  de« 
ferve  this  reward.  He  applied  to  his  wife.  She  gava 
a  very  favourable  accannt  of  Mary;  and  added,  that 
for  fome  days  paft  ihe  had  been  perfedly  fatisfied  with 
her  conduct.  She  had  been  very  induftrious,  and  oii 
Xhe  watch  to  pleafe;.  nay,  that  flie  had  with  pleafure 
remarked  her  particular  attentionin  in  keeping  her  per- 
fan  clean,  and  her  clothes  in  order.  Mr.  Jones  ex- 
prefled  the  plea-fure  this  account  gave  him,  and  inftaiit- 
ly  determined  that  Mary  Ihouid  be  of  the  party.  But 
■what  ihall  vv^e  do  with  Charles? 

I  Ihoiild  gladly  take  him  with  us  too,  for  he  has 
behaved  very  well  ever  fince  he  promifed  to  gov  era 
hi^  tonguej  but  the  time  of  trial  is  not  yet  expired. 
As  w^e  are  to  be  amongit  friends,  we  may  converfe  a- 
bout  things  which  Ihould  not  be  repeated;  and  if  he 
were  to  tattle  again,  we  might  be  involved  in  freHi 
troubles.  Mrs.  jories  was  of  the  fame  opiuion,  and 
it  was  agreed  that  Charles  ihouid  ftay  at  home  that 
evening. 

Mary  was  now  informed  that  they  were  going  to 
drink  tea  in  a  beautiful  garden,  and  that  they  would 
take  her  with  them,  if  her  drawers  and  ciofet  were  in 
order. 

Oh,  faid  Ihe,  fmiling,  you  will  not  catch  them  in 
confufion  agam,  I  believe.  I  hrll  tried  to  keep  them 
in  order  to  pleafe  my  mother,  and  to  avoid  tlie  dread- 
ful pain  I  felt  when  I  was  left  at  home  alone^ 


MORALITY. 


I  find  it  To  pleafant  to  knov^  where  to  find  any  thing 
1  want,  that  I  lhall  never  be  carelefs  any  more. 

All  my  commands  have  the  fame  tendency,  faid 
her  mother;  I  aliiit  your  weak  mind,  and  I  am  endea- 
vouring to  make  you  wiie  and  happy,  when  I  deny 
yon  any  prefentpleauire;  for  yon  are  yet  too  young  to 
inovv  what  is  reaiiy  good. 

She  then  iooked  over  her  drawers,  clofet  and  work 
bafket,  and  tiading  rhfm  all  in  order,  fue  Irailed  fo 
good-humoiTedly  on  Mary,  that  fhc  was  delighted^ 
and  catching  hold  of  her  hand,  faid,  1  will  Rjcver  be 
-Carelefs  again,  that  you  may  alw.ays  look  at  me  as  you 
4o  no\V,  and  that  I  may  never  cry  as  bitterly  as  I  did 
when  I  faw  the  coach  drive  oif.. — Oh ! — that  was  a  fad 
^^day,  I  lhall  never  forg^^t  it' — no,  never  I 

Afrerv,  ards  they  caljcd  Charles,  and  afked  him,  if 
,he  fhonld  like  to  be  of  the  party  ?  O  yes,  O  yes,  an- 
JV'ered  Charles  in  one  breath.  I  believe  you,  faid  his 
father,  and  it  would  add  to  my  pleafur^  if  you  par* 
took  of  it.— But  we  are  to  meet  a  felect  company,  and 
_may  converfe  in  an  unreferved  manner  abont  many 
things,  which  w'e  Ihould  not  choofe  to  have  repeated 
to  mere  acquaintance. 

Charles  interrupted  him,  I  ne\^  will-^indeed,  I 
-never  will  repeat  a  converfation  again. — I  am  not  9 
tattler  now. 

I  believe,  continued  his  father,  that  you  are  firmly 
refolved  to  govern  your  tongue  ;  but  before  I  can  tv\\i\ 
you,  I  mult  fee  proofs  that  you  have  conquered  this 
fault,  and  as  bad  habits  are  notoverconje  in  a  moment, 
you  muft  fuller  for  your  folly,  or  you  would  foon  for- 
get it.  So  the  difappointed  Charles  was  obliged  to  re- 
main at  home.  He  went  to  walk  in  the  garden  alone, 
and  fiiting  down  under  a  tree,  he  wept,  and  for  an 
hour  could  think  of  nothing  but  his  own  folly  ;  then 
wiping  his  eyes  and  bitting  his  tongue,  he  faid,  I  will 
r^achyou,  Mr.  Tongue,  to  keep  within  my  teeth. — 
I^lhaii  remember,  how  many  fad  hoi  rs  I  own  to  my 
own  thoughtieffnefs. 

IVIr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  with  Mary  in  their  hand^  now 


1?.  LAMENTS  OF 


walked  to  Cliftor^,  and  met  in  a  pleafant  garden  fQine 
intimate  friends  ;  befide  the  profeffor's  family,  they 
law  Mr.  Goodman,  with  his  wife  -and  children,  and 
the  refpedable  old  man,  who- had  been  the  profeiTor's 
bencfacior. 

They  drank  coffee  and  &3.t  cakes  inthe  fummer-houfe, 
and  converfed  without  obferving  the  charming  garden 
they  came  to  fee.  Mr.  Jones  found  it  very  clofe,  and 
ftood  up,  faying,  of  what  ufe  is  that  beautiful  garden, 
if  we  reDiain  ihut  up  in  this  room  .-^  Would  it  ixu  be 
better  to  enjoy  the  frefli  air,  and  obferve  tlie  various 
plants  which  grc\^'  there  in  fiuh  abundance,.  The 
whole  company  owned  they  ^viihed  to  tafte  the  fweef 
sir,  and  breathe  with  more  freedom  ;  and  they  each 
took  the  companion  which  aifection  or  chance  threw  ia 
their  way. 

Mr,  Jones  took  the  profeiTor^'s  arm,  and  they  v/alk- 
cd  up  and  down,  converfing  without  referVe,  for. 
they  were  fnicere  honeft  men,  u'ho  loved  each  other- 
Mr.  Jones  was  heartily  glad  when  the  profelTor  told 
him  that  he  intended  to  take  Mr.  Goodman's  fon  with 
liim  to  Oxford,  and  dired  his  ftudies  ;  his  father,  faid 
lie,  appears  to  me  to  be  a  very  good  man. 

Yes,  an  excel  Ian  t  man,  indeed  !  faid  the  profelTor  ; 
F  all  the  fchoolmall:ers  1  know  did  their  duty  as  cori- 
fcientioufiy  as  he  does,  we  Ihould  foon  have  another 
kind  of  world.  He  is  as  anxious  abo'  st  his  fcholars  as  if 
they  were  all  his  own  children  ;  and  he  never  negleds 
them  one  day  without  the  moft  preifing  necefuty.  He 
has  fuch  an  admirable  method,  that  we  always  rejoice 
when  a  ftudent  comes  from  his  fchool;  for  we,  in 
general,  find  them  induftrious,  orderly  young  men, 
prepared  to  receive  our  inllru£tions. 

But  the  mafter,  and  the  other  alTiftants,  they 
fliould  not  be  forgotten  in  the  praife  you  bcftow  on  the 
fchool. 

No,  anfwered  the  profeffor ;  they  deferve  fome, 
tliey  are  relpedable  but  Mr.  Goodman  has  made  them 
fo  by  example  and  remonilrances — the  fchopf  was 
i,^  a  lamentable  flate  when  he  came  to  it.    And,  have 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y.  145 

vou  not  heard  of  his  writings  ?  he  is  reckoned  one  of 
our  belt  writers.  He  has  lately  pubhlhed  a  book, 
which  has  been  iTiiich  admired. 

I  am  aRoniihed,  laid  Mr.  Jones  ;  when  I  converfed 
with  hini,  he  never  boal^ed  of  his  abilities  and  learn- 
ing, nor  even  of  the  iciiolars  he  had  formed  ;  but  praif- 
ed  thofe  who  alhiled  in  conducting  the  fchool. 
-  Yes,  yes,  continued  the  j>rofeiror,  that  is  his  way. 
He  is  a  very  modeii  man.  He  fays  nothing  of  hinv 
felf,  and  his  own  abilities ;  but  dwells  on  ail  the  good 
h&  obferves  in  others  ;  and,  on  this  very^  accoinu',  I 
particularly  efieem  him.  If  lie  had  Aill  more  learning 
and  fuperior  talents,  and  was  always  boaihng  of  tliCiii, 
and  bringing  them  tor  ward  to  notice,  I  Ihouid  not,  i 
^ffure  you,  either  refpecl  or  lo\'e  him  as  I  now  do. 
All  the  qualities  we  poflefs,  lofe  above  half  their  \ah:e 
when  we  praifc  ourfelves. — And  of  what  ufe  is  this 
praile  ?  Men  need  only  be  virtuous  and  do  their  du- 
ty, and  others  will  hear  of  it  without  their  telling 
ihem.  A  good  horfe  cannot  praife  himielf  ;  yet  I^dif- 
.cover  his  good  quahties,  if  I  hav^  only  rode  him  a 
lingle  hour. 

While  they  were  fpeaking,  Mr.  Goodman  himfelf 
happened  to  meet  them.  Mr.  Jones  went  up  to  him 
with  refpect ;  and,  cordially  preiling  his  hand,  faid, 
worthy  man,  receive  the  homage  due  to  3^our  good- 
•nefs  !  I  have  hecird  of  your  many  virtues  !  I  have 
heard  of  your  talents,  your  benevolence  and  indullry, 
though  you  were  fo  lilent  ;  but  even  this  modelly  in- 
<;reafes  my  veneration.  T/pe  praife  ive  receive  from 
others  al-cj ay s  refle^l  more  hoyiour  on  us  than  ivhen  we 
boafl  of  ourfelves.  I  perceive,  anfwered  Mr.  Good- 
man, that  the  profeflor  has  been  talking  of  me  ;  h? 
loves  me,  and  always  difcovers  more  merit  in  ms  than 
any  one  elfe  can,  I  fear. 

They  then  entered  into  a  friendly  difpute  ;  and  Mr.. 
Goodman  turned  the  converfation,  with  his  ufual 
modefty,  faying,  it  is  our  duty  and  happinefs  to  be 
as  good  as  we  can,  and  be  more  careful  to  corredt 
our  faults  than  boaft  of  our  good  qualities  or  virtues, 

N 


^46  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MAllY  chatted  during  this  time  w'uh  little 
Emeha,  Mr.  Goodman's  daughter,  who  gave 
her  adefcriptloa  of  every  thing  remarkable  in  her  vil- 
lage and  houfe.  Amungft  other  things,  ihe  faid,  that 
her  prcfcnt  mother  was  not  her  own  mother,  but  a 
itcp-mother  :  her  ov.  n  mother  ihe  laid  ieriouilv,  Ihe 
Piad  never  known,  bccadic  Ihe  died  when  Hie  was  an 
infant. 

A  ftep-mother,  do  yon  fay  ?  replied  Mary,  c[\utp 
furprized,  a  ftep-mother—  poor  child  I  I  have  always, 
heard  that  llep-mothers  wtre  very   cruel  ;  thac  they 
beatpoor  children,  and  do  not  give  them  enough  to 
eat. 

Do  not  believe  fucli  fiories,  dear  Mary,  anfwcred 
Emelia  !  1  rcmcml  cr  I  beard  the  fame  thing,  but  I 
found  it  very  diilerent.  It  is  polfiole  there  may"  have 
been  many  cruel  llep-mothers  ;  and,  for  that  rejifcn,  I 
^vi^h  that  all  good  children  may  keep  their  own  par- 
.ents  ;  butmy  liep-niother  is  certainly  the  belt  woman 
in  the  world.  She  has  her  own  children,  and  my 
another's  but  Ihe  loves  us  as  well  as  her  own.  The 
cakes  and  frr.it  Ihe  diUributes  amonglt  us  are  aKvays  in 
equal  lhares  ;  Vvhen  they  are  naughty,  they  are  al- 
ways punilhed  as  feverely  as  I  am,  vv'hen  I  am  carelefs 
.or  neglect  ujv  work.  She  has  only  once  given  me  a 
])\o\y  ;  and  I  am  alhamed  to  tell  yon  that  I  deferved  it, 
for  telling  her  a  lie,  and  perfilting  in  it',  though  Ihe 
took  me  gently  by  tlie  hand,  and  toki  me  w  hat  a 
dreadful  thing  a  he  was.  And  this  is  her  ufual  me- 
tliofl  ;  ihe  melts  me  by  h;r  kindnefs,  and  I  promiie  tor 
try  to  become  better  ;  for  1 1-:now  now  that  I  acquired 
:Ur;iie  bad  habits  before  my  father  married  agairi. 
YV  hat  tjien  v>M3uld  have  become  of  me  if  I  had  not  had  a 
jU'p-iuother  ?  My  own  mother  was  gone  to  Heavpi. 


M  O  R  A  L  1  T  Y. 


^47 


I  never  knew  her,  though  my  father  lays  I  fucked  her 
miik  till  a  few  days  before  Ihe  died  :  but  my  liep-mo- 
thcr  had  pity  on  me,  and  has  taught  me  to  read  and 
work;  nay,  to  tell  truth,  and  be  orderly— my  father 
loves  me  twice  as  well  as  he  did— cuid  I  do  love  my  fa- 
ther, tho;  gh  people  lay  1  am  paihonate  and  have  a 
bad  temper,  i  willi  to  be  good.  And  then,  when  I 
V.3LS  lick,  yes,  very  lick,  fl.e  fat  up  with  me  all  night, 
and  was  fo  kind — who  knows  where  Ifliould  have  been 
DOW,  hut  for  her  ! 

While  Ihe  was  fpeaking,  they  met  the  gardener 
John,  faid  Ihe,  ma}^I  gather  a  nofegay  ?  My  mother 
bade  me  always  aiK  yon,  left  I  ihould  gather  fome 
flowers  your  mafter  fet  a  particular  value  on,  or  any 
yoj  were  faving  for  feed. 

You  are  very  good,  mifs,  replied  he  ;  but  yon  may 
pluck  ajiy  you  fee  in  thefe  left-hand  beds,  only  do  not 
touch  my  carnations  I  She  then  fought  for  iome 
©f  the  iweeteil  flowers,  and  bound  them  up  into  a 
pretty  nofegay.  She  ran  to  look  for  her  flep-mo:her, 
and  found  her  fitting  on  a  bank  ;  flie  i\uck  the  Row- 
ei's  haltily  in  her  bofom,  and  faid  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  tiea?'  mother. 

Mrs.  Jones  did  not  meet  with  fuch  an  agreeable 
companion.  She  walked  v/iih  the  fifter  of  the  bride, 
v^hofe  converfation  fiie  found  very  tirefome  ;  nay,  it 
gave  her  great  pain.  She  had  been  brought  up  hy  a 
relation;  and,  in  her  childhood,  been  with  thonght- 
kfs,  idle  people,  and  had  learned  from  them  'the 
dreadful  cuftom  of  /larJcrhig^  or  fpeaking  ill  of  every 
bod}'.  Mrs  jones  did  not  yet  know  her  evil  propen- 
fity  ;  file  took  her  arm  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  faid, 
your  filter's  marriage  with  fuch  a  worthy  man  gave 
me  great  p'eafi  re.  1  congratulate  yon,  and  fincerely 
w'ifii  that  they  may  all  their  lives  enjoy  the  happinels 
they  merit,  tiannah,  for  that  was  the  name  of  this 
malicious  girl,  thanked  her  coldly  for  the  part  fr;e  took 
in  the  happinefs  of  her  family.  Bat,  continued  file, 
with  a  fneering  laugh,  I  know  not  whether  the  Docl- 
er's  h:;ppinefs,  or,  if  you  pleafe.  the  ProfcHor's  will 
N  2  ' 


E  L  ?:  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


l-.e  fc.  ycry  -  -  Now  it  is  only  the  honey-moon,  as 
iVsQ  wAgns  ,  v.  iky  ii.  full  of  Aars.  But  when  he 
has  his  Wife  home  a  month  or  two,  he  \vili  ibon  fee 
wiiat  a  line  choice  h?  iias  made.  I  really  do  not  know 
w  h.at  he  v/iil  do  ^vith  her.  She  knows  nothing  of  the 
ina:ia^e:nent  c:  '  f;--^'  v,  and  Ihe  has  fuch  a  bad  tem- 
per, God  help  .  ?  to  live  always  with  her  ! 
tor  uvy  par:,  I  a.:-  Vc-ry  ^  file  is  out  of  our  hoiife. 
'x'ne  v/i.rtliy  Profcllor  ^■  .;•  trouble  enough  with 
h.r  ;  bivL  then  (Ihe  laughed  a^ain)  the  worthy  Profeir- 
(ir  has  no  ri^jit  to  nndi'ault   w  uh  her.    I  know  him, 

id  know  all  hi3  tricks. — 1  muitnot  ujention  them — 

:t — Mrs.  Jones,  if  you  knew    what  I  kno\v,  you 
v.  o.  Idfrrm  quite  a  different  opinion  of  him. 

Mrs.  joiies  now  tellified  her  furprive,  and  airnredr. 
her  a.xt  ine  had  never  heard  any  tlhng  but  good  of  hiin 
and  her  liiier.    Behdes,  Mr.  Goodman  had  praifed 
them,  am]  he  was  certainly  a  worthy,  fenfible  man. 

He  may  be  a  learned  man,  anfwered  Hannah,  but 
he  is  nothing  more.  He  leaves  all  things  at  fixes  and 
fevens  ;  and  if  any  one  will  give  him  a  glafs  of  wine,  . 
he  v.'ill  fay  a;.l  zbwz  is  kind  and  good  of  them  for  it.  I 
do  not  loT'c  LO  cak  ill  of  others;  Ixit  I  know  very 
well  what  they  ia;v  of  his  wnfe;  ha!  ha!  ha!  ihe  can 
fl<in  a  film  m  tlic  management  of  her  houfe — you  will 
fee  more  r.nfiune  than  bread  there,  I  hear. 

r.Ir  :.  J.v:  e5  earneftiy  endeavoured  to  defend  her 
fri."  ,  : ;  iur  lae  knew  chem,  and  wor.ld  not  fuffer  fuch 
nrtii  1  ca-;;niny  to  I'nake  her  good  opinion.  But  the 
more  (lie  defended  their  characters,  the  more  ill  this 
r5raiicioiiS  girl  fald  of  them.  She  tiirned  the  con- 
veriatiou  on  oiher  perfons  :  and  ilie  had  fomething  barl 
to  tell  of  e^  ery  one.  If  Ike  could  not  inltantiy  recoiiccl 
fomething,  ilie  ti  rne  l  up  her  nofe  fo  fcorn.Fnlly,  that 
anyone  would  ha'^ef.ppoled  Ihe  knew  fomething  very 
bad  of  them.  Mrs.  Jones  liilened  above  half  an  kionr 
to  thefe  uialicions  ilanders,  lor  flie  could  not  ftop  lier  ; 
u.nable  to  endure  it  any  longer  withpatirnce,  Ihe  look- 
ed at  her  with  contempt,  and  abruptly  interrupted  her. 
Madam^  faid  ihe  to  her,  you  have  recolleiited  fou.ic- 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


149 


thinrr  ill  of  every  perfon  yen  have  mentioned ;  I  ll.oukl 
he  glud  to^icar  you,  juft  to  turn  the  torrent,  fay  fome- 
thing  good  of  any  of  them. 

How  can  I  'help  it,  (aid  Ihe,  if  people  r.re  not  better? 
how  can  I  fpeak  well  of  them,  v/hen  they  have  nothing 
good  in  the7n  ? 

What,  65ntiniied  Mrs.  Jones,  are  you  not  afliamed 
of  yourielf  I  Have  yoa  heard  nothing  good  ofany  of 
thofe  perlbns  you  have  been  calumniating?  I  love  and 
ei\eem  thehi  all  becaufe  I  know  them  to  be  good  ;  hut 
if  I  only  believed  half  v/hat  you  have  faid  of  them, 
they  v.'ould  fink  fo  low  in  my  opinion,  that  they  would 
forfeit  the  place  thfy  have  in  my  efteern  ;  I  Hiould  be 
forced  to  defpife  them,  as  beinp^- delhtute  of  virtue  ?nd 
hoiioi:r.  Is  not  this  detelhible  ?  Hannah  !  Hannah  ! 
if  you  robbed  me  of  my  watch  or  pari'e,  it  v.  ould  be- 
very  v.  rong  ;  but  it  wor,ld  not  be  fo  blumeable  an  acti- 
on as  flandering,  if  you  deprived  me  of  my  reputation, 
.2nd  thi;s  robbed  me  of  iiiy  honour  !  However  preci- 
ous my  watch  may  be,  1  can  purchiife  another,  if  it  be 
ifo'en;  bi't  gold  cannot  rub  out  the  iiains  you  might 
fix  on  my  good  name.  But  think  how  mucii  you  have 
injnred  yoi.rlelf.  How  can  I  re'ped  a  perfon  who  has 
fpokenin  fuch  a  iiyle  of  her  own  filler  and  brother  ?  If 
1  were  to  repeat  to  them,  to  Mr.  Goodman,  ^r  any  of 
the  other  pei  fons  yoaha\  e  menuqned,  only  half  wbat 
you  have  laid  of  them,  v.  hat  do  yoii  fuppofe  would  be 
t;ve  confequenc^  ?  ' 

vvnat  do  you  f^y,  dear  IVIadam  ?  interrupted  the 
friguLeiied  Hannah  ;  fu rely  you  will  not  rpeat  what  I 
havefpoken  to  you,,  becaufe  I  confidered  you  as  my 
fritiTd-    1  did  riot  mean  any  harm. 

if  I,  anfwered  xMrs.  jones,  fpare  you,  you  will 
f  '^ a  betray  yonrlelf.  You  fuon  will  iofe  every  friend 
yon  have;  all  your  acquaintjance  will  fly  from  you, 
th'cy  will  defpife  and'loathe  you.  IVe  loathe  a  jlandi'?-- 
rer  as  iv^  do  a  v'lfer.  I,  at  leail,  iiiali  take  care  in  fu 
ture  not  to  come  fo  near  you,  left  you  fiiould  agaii^ 
fatten  on  my  ear,  as  you  have  done  to-day,  to  inPdi 
•     ^:  -0  iv\-.  heart     For  whoever  fpeaks  ill  to  me  cf 

3 


E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 


all  ilie  world,  will  certainly  not  fpeak  w  cil  of  me  when 
irTv  bat:k  is  turned. 

Sa3'ir:g  ib,  ihe  haftily  left  the  mali^jious  girl  {kndiii 
alone,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  herielf,  Ihe  was 
■''->  vexed.  Slie  walked  angrily  up  and  down  the  gar- 
-.^n  ;  aiid,  niecting  her  liitcr,  would  have  begun  to 
-P";^k  in  of  Mrs.  Jones  •  but  llie  would  not  hear  her, 
•  -1  froui  her  laying,  I  know  yon,  lifter;  and 

J  ■         -  -rs.  Jones.    I  have  not  tinie  to  liflen  to  you. 
I  Ills  made  hex  very  angry;  when  the  whole  com- 
■  v.-erp  cheerful,  and  walked  about  chatfing  and 
.,   .  ..nnah  fiew  to  a  dark  corner,  and  leated 
.        I  he  y:-y  cf  her  own  malice. 


C  II  A  P  T  E  R  XXX. 


f|  R.  S.  Jones  then  Vv-alked  round  the  garden,  to 
J^%'  ^  leek  I  or  a  coinp;:nion  in  whole  ton  vcria  lion  ihe 
?!!i.^tit  ■L:d  more  pleaiure.  She  nrfi  mec  T^k.-y,  wha 
;,)kl  her.  wich  joy,  v/bat  a  good  ilep-uiolher  Einelia 
■  \rid.  A  litilc  after  il^e  met  the  proreilor's  godfather, 
•  >  k(;  -  a-ked' with  her  all  round  the  garden,  pointed 
:'K.i:  •■.v'u-t  wri^.  r.ihfk  beautiful,  CKplained  the  nature  of 
pk>ri^5,  a  ■  ;i   l-.d*  hoAv  carefully  the  feed  was 

.    ■    '  :'k,  ik-.t  nothing  might  perifh.  He 

.  the  f:ip  circ\nate:d  through 
i.    .  c  a-dikJi:-,  ni  the  lame  manner  as  the  blood 
k  '-k.c  human  body  ;  and,  after  converimg  in 
'  :  i  ;ncr,  he  went  into  the  fummer-houle 

r  ,.  aaJ  delircd  them  to  purine  their  walk, 

i  :n--  ti  rvied  out  of  the  garden  into  a  little  inviting 
:  j\  a  .d  'i^w  a  v,'oman  ijcting  fpinning,  wich  three 
k    '•;  ctj  round  iicr.    ^.^ar3^  obiervcd  them  firft,  and 
10  her  motiier,  pray  look,  v/hat  anally  woman! 
,  r.:.t  (krtv  children  I  They  have  li;ch  patcbed  clothes, 
-^re  .-  ichout  itockmo'^  and  Ihoes.  and  their  feet  are  lb 


MORALITY. 


Mrs.  Jones  v/hjfpered  her  in  the  ear,  you  mv.{\  not 
fo  Toon  defpii'e  thefe-poor  people,  my  child  ;  they  may- 
be very  good,  thougn  they  have  llarcei>  rags  enough 
to  cover  them,  and  are  dirty.  The  br-de's  mother 
now  looked  out  of  the'  garden  gate,  and  feeing  Mrs, 
Jones,  advanced  towards  her. 

There  is  a  look  of  goodnefs  and  honefty  in  ihat  wo- 
man's countenance  which  intereits  me,  faia  ivli's.  Jones, 
addrelling  her. 

t  Yes,  Madam,  I  always  feel  pleafure  when  I  pafs  by 
her.  There  Ihe  iits  all  day  fpmnlng  or  kaictmg,  to 
earn  bread  for  her  children  ;  and  wiien  Ihe  can  gee  no- 
thing to  do,  ihe  comes  to  me  to  weed  the  gardea. 
Thev  have  been  at  work  m  the  garden  co-day,  or  the 
children  would  not  look  fo  du*i:y ;  for  choi  gh 
the}^;  have  bnt  few  clothes,  Ihe  keeps  them  clean. 
.Look,  there  comes  her  hniband  ;  poor  man,  he  lo'd  the 
,ufe  of.lhs  hands  by  v/orking  at  a  white-lead  manufacto- 
ry. He  went  into  the  hofpital,  and  his  wife  fold  one 
thing  after  another  to  niaintain  him.  I  heard  ot  her 
dilfrei^.  You  know  I  aai  not  rich,  and  have  a  large 
family  ;  but  I  let  them  turn  the  houfe  in  which  1  kept 
iny  garden-tools  into  a  little  dwelling;  and  that  wo- 
man now  maintains  her  htuband  and  children.  She  is, 
indeed,  a  good  woman  !  I  cannot  bear  to  fee  the  poor 
defpifed,  or  that  people  fliould  think  themfelves  better 
becaule  they  wear  fine  clothes,  and  have  dainties  to 
eat.  Ami  ivkat  ivould  the  rich  do  ivithout  the  poor  ? 
Vv"e  Ihould  be  obliged  to  do  all  our  work  ourf^lves. 
The  garden  you  have  admired  would  be  covered  with 
weeds,  but  for  thefe  little  hands.  What  Ihould  we  do 
for  linen  and  I'lockings,  if  the  poor  did  not  fpin  ?  What 
a  q-jantity  of  work  I  Ihould  have  to  do  !  J  muft  fpin 
and  knit  for  my  whole  family,  and  take  the  rake  and 
hoe  to  keep  my  garden  in  order.  I  fancy  T Ihould  not 
have  more  time  to  attend  to -my  drefs  than  this  poor 
^\oinan.  Indeed,  Ihe  is  m^/ faperior  ;  how  manv  idle 
hours  have  I  fpent,  when  ihe  has  been  toi-ing  to  do  her 
d.iity",  though  def  nfed  by  the  world.  God,  the  great 
F  '^■'^^r  of  us  all,  fees  her  virtues^  and  will  reward 


153.  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 


tnem; — nay,  he  even  now  rewards  them.  She  has 
contented  heare ;  I  ofcea  hear  heSrTinging  at  work,  and 
(he  enjoys  good  health.  I  have  fome  of  the  comforts 
of  hfe,  but  they-all  come  from  the  iabours  of  the  poor. 
I  h.  y  the  wool  they  have  fpun,  have  it  made  into 
clothes,  antl  lend  it  to  France  and  Holland,  and  the 
proih  whicli  arifes  from  it  fiipports  my  family. 

P  u"dun  my  Vv-armck,  dear  jMadam  ;  I  have  ftill  in  niy 
mind  the  q  sarrel  i  had  this  morning  with  my  nnhappv 
da:;<:;^LLter  iiannaii.  Vv^ould  yon  believe  it,  that"  wea 
girl  called  tliefe  poor  people  beggars;  but  I  did  not  ie. 
her  fooli;!!  pride  pafs  unrep-roved.  Whom  do  yon  call 
be'jp  ars?  laid  i.    Did  vou  accmire  vour  ov/n  fortune  ? 

too        \  _  ■/  i    ^  V 

If  )  our  father  had  not  been  as  ind'iltrous,  and  luckier 
than  this  honeii  man,  yon  would  be  as  poor  as  theib 
children,  if  their  clothes  are  not  good,  they  are  well 
patched,  which  proves  that  they  fpend  their  time  bet- 
ter ttian  yon  do,  who  (it  half  the  day  before  the  glafs 
curling  your  iinir.  If  they  could  employ  as  mijcli  tune 
about  their  perfous  as  you  do,  and  v^ere  not  obiigeci  to 
work  from' morning  till  ni,^hc  to  earn  their  bread,  their 
clothes  would  be  in  better  order  than  yours  are,  I  will 
venture  to  fay.  I  0\vn  that  they  want  manners;  but 
where  fhould  thev  learn  manners,  v  ho  have  never 
converfed  with  v/eiheducated  people?  iiov/ever,  they 
a-^  civil  and  good  Uc.t«Ted.  and  that;  ;S  far  preierablc  to 
tne  iniincere  compel ,ucur-3  yon  ufe,  v/ho  praue  people 
to  their  faces,  anu  i\u.c  \e  Luem  when  their  backs  are" 
turned,  ifyoa  caii  this  good  brceciui^;.  I  hearuly  wiih 
my  daughter  had  never  bceu      ^-  '  "  •  r-.:d.' 

Mrs.  jc  :es  drew  near  .  .  o-.^an,  and  en- 

tered into  couvarlatiou  ■  adfiaendly 

inunn-r;  e  .qiured  al  :   fs,  the  age 

other  cLiidrnn,  aud  u  iuu  iue  unended  lo  do  with 
theai.    'i':/r:  .■;  ^v;;^    ■  lie     -unued  w'th  her  at- 

tC'niou,  .  -  u  iuch 

ihiu  -L  V,  ;. -  -  -  -....h  with 
tca;-i.     0..:d  u  -  u.  .'adam.  faid 

Ihe,  an:i  V.  uc  1  na  .^iverano- 


thi-ev/  5  hen  my  lu   -       .  -  - .  _      > ork 


MORALITY. 


153 


(Jam  here  gave  us  a  ho'.ile,  and  while  I  have  health  my 
babes  fhall  not  want  a  bit  of  bread,  prailed  be  God  for 
it ;  and  my  hufband  too  earns,  a  little  matter  by  carry- 
ing meffages  to  Brillol :  he  has  no  hands  to  carry  par- 
cels with,  for,  blefs  yonr  heart,  he  is  as  weak  as  a 
child  ?  We  cut  his  meat  for  him,  and  help  him  011 
with  his  clothes  ;  and  he  richly  deferves  «11  we  can  do 
for  him.  You  w^ould  not  fee  us  in  thiii  plight,  if  he 
could  work. — Yes,  he  was  always  a  Ibber  man  ;  I  never 
had  to  follow  -him  to  an  ale-houfe,  as  feme  poor  wo- 
men are  obliged  to  do,  with  a  babe  crying  at  their 
breaft,  thank  God  for  it  I  And  now  he  cannot  work, 
lie  reads-good  books  to  us,  fo  my  children  will  have  a 
little  learning,  and  not  be  brought  r;p  like  brutes. 
Mary  was  then  afbamed  of  herfelf,  for  having  defpifed 

,  fuch  good  people,  whom  her  mother  treated  with  fo- 
much  refped ;  befides,  fhe  had  liflened  attentively  to 
the  account  which  the  Lady  had  given  of  this  poor 
woman's  dil\refs  ;  how  Ihe  loved  her  hufband  and  chil- 
dren— and  Ihe  heard  that  God  loved  her  : —  She- 
Aen  bkiflied  for  her  folly,  and  trembled  left  her  mo- 
tiier  Ihould  mention  it,  and  compare  her  with  the  fool- 
ifli  proud  Hannah.  Creeping  behind  her  m^^ther,  ihe 
«ivanced  to  the  cliildren,  began  to  talk  to  them^ 
»nd  flipped-all  the  money  ihe  bad  in  her  pocket  into  a 
Kttle  girl's  hand,  bkidaig  her  not  for  the  world  to  fay 

I  a  word  of  it  to  her  mother  till  Ihe  was  oat  of  the  gar- 
den. 

Mrs.  Jones  then  took  leave  of  this  woman,  faying, 
•  I  will  fend  your  children  ibaie  clothes  before  the  cold 
vvcather  comes  on  ;  and  da  you  co-ntlai-e  to  be  as  ineiuf- 
ftrious  as  you  have  been  hitherto,  and  you  will  be  con- 
I  tent,  as  content  as  I  am.  The  things  1  moft  value  are 
a  good  cofifcience  and  health,  a  fober  hvdband,  and 
igood  children — and  you  liave  all  thefe  : — Money  never 
purchafed  contentment.  If,  with  my  fortime,  I  had 
a  weak  conftitutio  1,  or  a  bad  huihand,  I  fiio.ud  wiih 
my-fetf  in  your  fitiiation,  {pinning  at  a  wheel. 

The  poor  woman  was  affefted — Ihe  prefied  Mrs. 
J^es'hand,  and  laid,  Thank  you,  kind  Madam ;  may 
God  blefs  you  and  your  chiidreii. 


ELEMENTS  OF 


Mrs.  Jones  had  fcarcely  turned  her  back,  when  the 
poor  woman  fa  id  to  her  children,  Gracioi.s  heart.  v>hat  a 
pretty  fpoken  gentlewoman  that  is — how  good-iiat\  red 
•^ihe  has  not  a  bit  of  pride  in  her;  and  the  U:tle  M.fs, 
{lie  is  as  good-tempered  as  an  ang'.e. 

Do  yoii  hear,  Madam,  fiid  ihe  Lady  of  the  houfe  to 
Mrs.  joiies,  what  that  poor  woman  fays?  Yo.,r  con- 
verfaiion  with  her  has  raifed  you  highly  in  yiiy  eAeem;-, 
yo  I  have  given  her  more  pleafure  than  if  you  had 
ha'-.ghtihy  thrown  her  a  guinea.  It  mull-  I'l-eadf.  lly 
mortifying  to  poor  people  to  fee  the  rich  enjoy  fo  ma- 
ny things  v.  hiciirhey  are  obliged  to  do  widiout,  and 
to  ieel  th.-3-:  they  are  ridiculed  and  deipifci*,  Ic.^ai.fe 
they  have  the-n  not ;  and  it  wordd  not  be  fi  r>  i  izing  if 
fiich  fre;iuneni  roafed  their  hatred — for  a  v-.  v-x-m  will 
turn  again  when  it  is  troddfV'.  on.-  But  a  friendly  look, 
a  few  ,k;ad  words,  \\  •■  .  ;\c',r  heart:-,  a -.id  make 

their  cares  lighter.  1  r..ey  vwfh  i:s  to  re-nembrrr  that 
we  ah  ',e!o:iided  from  the  fame  parents — all  look  L'p  to 
the  lai^.c  God. 

The  day  now  began  to  flint  in  ;  it  was  twilight,  and 
prepera:.jns  were  mvC^n  for  a  modjrace  iVp^er,  of 
which  they  all  parcook,  txcept  liaa:.:.]:,  who  retired 
to  her  own  roOiti,  preteiidi\'.g  that  ii_e  nacl  ^oi  the'- 
toOLh-ache.  Tiiey  all  feeaied  to  he  giaci  of  her  ab- 
fence,  becanfe  they  kney/  that  in  company  ihe  did  no- 
thing but  pry  into  every  ronveriation,  to  gather  iome-, 
thing  which  f  ie  coiiid  te'l  a  .^aiu,  and  to  find  matter  tei', 
feed  her  malicious  fpirit.  ci:e  was  a  poor  nnhappy 
creatiu'e  ;  thqfe  "ivho  eager  to  Jind  faults  in  other Sy 
have  feldom  many  good  quailttes  cf  their  ovjn. 

They  fpent  the  evening  ib  j  leafantly,  that  no  one 
thought  of  going  home  till  it  itruck  twelve  ;  then 
they  were  ohhged  to  feperaie,  and  took  leave  of  each 
other,  with  aifurance  of  friendihip  and  remember^ 
ance. 


MORALITY. 


»55 


C  H  A  P  T  E  Tx  XXXI. 

TH  E  frequent  amiifenients  in  which  Mr.  Jones' 
family  had  been  eiiL^aged  for  fome  time  paU,  inter- 
r.  pced  too  much  their  regular  employments.  Charles 
had  not  done  carefully  wiiat  his  inaiter  every  day  re- 
<jiiired;  Mary's  v/ork  was  Icfc  nnfiniuied;  Mrs.  Jones 
had  feveral  things  to  do  in  the  family,  and  Mr.  Jones 
many  accounts  to  fettle,  which  made  him  fay  to  his 
wife  and  children,  we  have  lately  enjoyed  much  plea- 
/ure,  perhaps  more  than  we  ought,  becaufe  we  have 
neglected  our  neceffai'y  employment.  But  now  it  is  pro- 
per for  us  to  return  to  our  rcfpeclive  occupations  with 
frelli  vin,our;  elfe  we  Ihsll  lofe  by  degrees  all  defire  for 
.employment,  and  our  whole  family  would  then  fall 
into  fuch  diforder,  that  we  iheuld  no  longer  hnd  any 
comfort  in  it. 

He  deiired  Charle?,  after  he  had  given  this  caution, 
to  prepare  his  exercife,  and  v/ent  himfelf  to  his  compt- 
ing-hbufe. 

At  lirrt  the  children  did  not  much  relifh  work;  and 
even  Mr.  Jones  himfelf  found  it  more  troublefonie 
than  ufual;  but  imperceptibly  every  thing  returned  into 
its  former  order.  Every  one  fulfdled  his  appointed 
tafk,  and  even  Mr.  Noel  grev/  daily  more  and  more 
indujlrlous;  and  finding  themfelves  very  well,  they 
were  happily  convinced  that  regular  employment  affords 
more  real  fadsfaclion  than  continual  amuiements  and 
feaih. 

This  order  was  not  interrupted  till  the  middle  of 
October,  v^'hen  the  two  maids  begged  Mrs.  Jones  to 
let  them  go  to  a  fair  in  a  neighbouring  village. 
.Scarcely  were  they  gone  out  nf  the  houfe,  when  the 
man*lerv-uit  entered  and  buriUng  into  a  violent  fit  of 
crying,  he  could  only  bring  out.  What  lhall  I  do! 
y/h;it  ihall  I  do!  Mrs.  Jones  was  alarmed^  aud  aiked 


E  L  E  M  E      T  S  OF 


hlin  what  ailed  him  ;  but  he  could  only  anfwer,  Tiicy 
fay  my  father  is  dying.  Mr.  Jones  pitied  the  poor 
man,  and  alked  if  he  w  iflied  to  go  and  nurle  him  dur- 
ing his  illnefs  Oyesi  O  yes!  laid  the  man;  let  me 
but  fee  him  before  he  dies,  or  I  lhall  never  know  a 
happy  day  again !  Mr.  Jones  then  inrtantly  gave  him 
leave  to  go,  faying,  I  would  rather  do  all  your  work  my- 
ielf  than  keep  you  from  your  fick  father.  Go,  and  attend 
on  him  ;  and  all<.  my  wife  for  fomething  to  take  with 
you  to  revive  his  fpirits.  Then  Harry  foon  haftened 
away,  with  his  pockets  full  of  nourifliing  things  for 
the  poor  Tick  man. 

Mrs.  Jones  determined  to  avail  herfelf  of  this  op- 
portunity, to  imprefs  a  uleful  lelTon  on  the  minds  of 
her  children,  and  would  not  fend  for  any  aiiift ance^ 
though  all  the  fervants  were  abfent. 

They  having  left  .every  thing  in  order,  much  in^ 
convenience  was  not  felt  during  the  remainder  of  the 
day ;  but  the  next  morning,  when  Mary  was  going 
to  v/alh  herfelf,  i3ie  found  no  waxer,  and  was  obiidged 
to  go  to  the  pump  for  it  herfelf,  trembling  from  head 
to  foot.  The  children  now  felt  the  abfence  of  the  fer- 
vants, and  how  they  were  indebted  to  them  for  wait- 
ing on  them.  When  breakfaft  time  came,  the  milk 
was  bror.ght;  but  there  were  no  clean  bafons  to  put  it 
in,  and  the  children  nmi\  drink  out  of  thofe  in  which 
fome  milk  remained  iince  the  day  before,  or  wafh 
them  themfelves.  When  they  entered  the  parlour 
every  thing  was  in  diforder,  and  out  of  Its  place ;  all 
ftood  as  they  had  left  them  the  night  before;  the 
floor  was  covered  with  crumbs,  bits  of  paper,  ^.nd 
duft,  in  Ihort,  it  looked  like  a  dweUing  in  which  idle 
people  lived. 

Mrs.  Jones  faid,  that  to-day  flie  muft  duft  and  fweep 
the  room  herfelf,  fmce  no  one  thought  ©f  doing  it  for 
her. 

The  children,  who  dearly  loved  their  mother, 
would  not  fuffer  her  to  do  it,  but  began  to  work  them- 
felves. 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


157 


Mary  took  the  broom  and  fwept  it  cle.ni,  with 
fome  labour;  and  Charles  pnt  the  things  in  orc^er. 

Meanwhile  the  wind  role,  and  made  the  panes  rat- 
tle ;  and  the  battering  of  the  rain  and  haii  rendered  it 
i^iU  more  drear  v.  Tne  pooc  children's  teeth  chatter- 
ed, their  fing;ers  \vere  iVilf  wirh  cold,  and  thev  a&ed 
their  mother  if  they  \vere  no.£  to  have  a  fire  ib-day; 

I  Ihouid  be  very  glad  of  a  f.re,  Ihe  replied,  but  I 
have  nobody  to  lig,ht  it.  if  then  yon  do  not  chopfe'to 
ftand  trembhng,  you  malt  contrive  to  make  a  fire 
yonrfelves. 

Charles  lighted  fome  matches,  and  pi^t  them  into 
the  grate,  but  they  went  oat:  he  tried  again,  and 
fometimes  the  wood  caught  tire;  but  they  had  net 
placed  the  cinders  properly  to  admit  air  to  draw  up  ibe 
;  blaze,  fo  it  w^ent  out  again;  the  wood  did  no:  bur.i. 
i  Mary  aihfted  as  well  as  ihe  could;  but  as  fne  never 
1  lighted  a  fire  before,  ihe  did  not  know  how  to  make  if, 
fo^'her  help  Vv-as  of  no  avail.  They  Itood  trembling  and 
crying  till  Charles' mafter  luckily  came  in,  and  told 
them  how  they  ought  to  place  the  wood,  amrpiie  zlic 
cinders  lightly  over  it,  fo  as  to  admit  the  air;  and  not 
heave  a  quantity  of  frelh  coals  on,  vvhich  were  damp, 
and  would  not  readily-  burn,  till  the  flame  had  i^v..- 
ftrength  to  curl  round  them. 

They  were  now  comfortable  and  warm;  the  chil- 
idren  rubbed  their  he.r.Js,  rejoicing  and  faying,  now 
we  have  l*;:;!"xred  it,  we  will  not  foon  f^ir  out  of  the 
warm  room.  But  fcarcely*  was  Charles  feated  by  the 
Ifide  of'his  mafter,  when  Mr.  Jones  entered  with  fome 
letters  in  his  hand,  which  mul\  inltantly  be  taken  to 
the  poft. 

Here  Charles,  faid  he,  run  iuimediately ;  thefe  lec- 
'ters  mu'il  be  carrid  to  the  poft-oince.  Oh,  dear  father, 
rephed  he,  I  would  gladly  go;  but  fee  what  dreatiful 
weather  it  is  I — it  rams  violently — -and  how  it  bio  a  s  ■ 
iMay  I  wait  till  the  Ihower  is  over.'^  Fie,  fie,  the  let- 
ters mn  it  go — the  poit  never  waits  for  good  weather. 
Come  ItarL  up  quickly,  left  he  fhoiild  be  gone.  . 

Then  Charles  ran  away,  and  came  back  quite  wet: 
O 


ELEMENTS  OP 


he  would  have  changed  his  clothes,  but  had  not  time; 
for  his  father  fent  hirn  out  again  with  foine  other 
nieffages. 

Mary  could  not  flay  much  longer  by  the  fire,  be.- 
caufe  ihe  had  feveral  things  to  do  in  the  kitchen. 

When  it  itruck  one  they  came  again  into  the  parlour, 
.and  clapped  their  hands  when  they  heard  they  were  to 
have  mutton-chops  and  apple-dumplings  for  dinner,  of 
which  they  were  very  fond.  But,  when  they  were 
ready,  the  cloth  was  not  laid,  nor  the  fah-feliars 
brought  in,  or  the  glaiTes  waihed,  Mrs.  Jones  had 
taken  care  to  fead  her  huiband  his  dinner  warm  into 
his  little  compting-houfe,  where  he  had  a  great  deal 
of  balinefs  to  do.  But  Ihe  left  the  children  to  prepare 
the  table  for  tbeniieives;  and,  before  every  thing  was 
_Xeady,  full  half  an  hois  had  llipped  away.  They  now 
feated  themfelves  at  table;  but  the  mutton  was  cold, 
and  the  dumplin'Ts  over  done,  fo  that  their  dinner  did 
not  taiie  ha'f  fo  good  as  they  had. expected. 

After  dinner  they  had  itill  many  things  to  dOy  and 
were  fo  dreadfully  fatigued  in  the  evening,  that  they 
threw  themfelves  on  a  f(?fa,  -fcarc^iy  able  to  m©v€ 
a  limb.  I  could  not  have  believed,  faid  Mary  to 
Charles,  that  the  fervants  had  fo  much  to  do — now 
i  feei  it  ;  and  I  will  never  give  them  unnecclTary 
trouble  again.  Pocr  people  !  they  are  obliged  to 
v/aicon  us  the  whole  day.  When  we  are  ileeping 
comfortably  in  our  warm  beds,  they  arc  forced  to  get 
up'to  light  our  fires  and  fvveep  our  rooms,  that  v\'e 
may  find  every  thing  in  order  when  we  rife.  When 
it  rains  and  blows  hard,  .we  fit  in  a  warm  comfortable 
room ;  but  they  muft  go  out,  and  not  wait  till  the 
fliowersis  over. 

In  the  winter,  when  it  freezes  fo  hard  that  their 
fingers  are  q'  ite  benumbed  with  cold,  they  mufl: 
go  to  the  well  for  water.  How  often  they  are  obli- 
ged to  cat  their  dinners  cold  !  and  fpmetimes  through 
.our  fa  it,  I  fear.  I  have  frequently  been  ill  natured 
to  tb.eai ;  I  am  now  very  lorry  for  it  ;  I  am  indeed  ve.- 
ry  lorry  !  ' 


MORALITY. 


'59 


-  And  foam  I,  interrupted  Charles,  very  forry  ;  for 
I  have  often  forgotton  myielf,  and  fpoken  very  im- 
properly to- the  fervants.  Imufttell  you  ^vhat  vexes 
me  :  I  lately  called  Henry  a  blockhead,  becayfe  he 
forgot  to  clean  my  Ihoes,  though  the  poor  fellow  had 
been  runnmg  about  the  whole  day  for  my  father — ^ 
but,  believe  me,  I  will  never  do  it  again  ;  I  will  al-^ 
•ways  be  civil  to  Henry,  Jenny,  and  Catharine,  when 
I  want  them  to  do  anything  for  me.  I  will  take  care 
ne^  er  to  fpeak  halVily  to  them  ;  and,  above  all,  not  to 
call  them  iiames.— Poor  Henry,  how  he  cried  after  his 
father — I  wiih  I  had  not  called  him  a  blockhead  I  I 
fliall  not  be  eafy  till  I  aflvhim  to  forgive  me.  Mary 
made  the  fame  reibiution  ;  and  they  both  longed  for 
the  return  of  the  fervants. 

The  next"  morning  the  two  maids  returned ;  but 
Catharine  was  fent  with  forne  medicines  to-  Henry's 
father  ;  and  for  three  days  the  children  were  obliged 
to  aililt  Jenny  to  do  the  work  of  the  houfe  ;  and  at 
night  they  w^refo  tired  that  they  did  nothing  but 
wifhfor  the  next  day,  hoping  that  Catharine,  atleafl, 
would  come  back.  Oh  1  if  only  Henry,  or  at  lealt 
poor  Catharine,  were  here  !  they  would  fay  again  and 
again.  The  fourth  day  Mary  v/as  ftanding  at  the  win- 
dow, thinking  ho%\  much  work  fhe  fiiould  have  to  do 
the  next  day — and  almoft  afraid  to  think  of  it,  when 
file  heard  fome  one  ring  the  bell  ;  llie  threvv''  up  the 
window— it  was  Catharine  ;  and  at  the  fame  time 
Henry  ran  up  the  fteps.  What  joy  ! — She  forgot  to 
pull  down  the  falh.  Charles  !  Charles  !  cried  fhe, 
Catharine  is  come  !  Henry  is  come  !  They  both  ran 
-to  the  ftreet  door;  and  eagerly  opening  it,  canght 
hold  of  their  hands,  faying,  welcome!  nvdcome ! 
dear  Henry  !  good  Catherine  !  we  have  ofld?i  ^d}}Jhed 
for  you.  Their  pleafure  was  ftlll  greater  when  Henry 
informed  them  that  his  father  would  foon  be  well. 

The  next  day  every  thing  was  again  in  order,  and 
thefe  children  never  afterwards  behaved  rudely  to  th5 
fervants  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  were  always  civil  and 
^ood-iiatured  to  them;  and  not  cnlv- pitied  thein^ 
O  2 


ELEMENTS  OF 


when  they  held  iiinre  work  thnn  iifiuil  to  do,  but  en- 
v::ivoi:red  to  zLiit 'hciD  ;  ::..cl  rcfblvcd  ne\'er  more  to 
^:vc  iinnccei-ary  tro..l>Ie  to  thoie  v.' ho  had  at  all  times 
ic^  niiiny  hardihlpb  to  bear. 


c  II  A  p  r  E  ?v  xxxir. 

JN  the  l)eginnl,no;of  Noverxiher,  Mr..  Jones  thoiig 
that  a  little  relaj.atioa  would  now  I  e  of  ufe  to  his 
laborioits  faiDily.  He  therefore  proniiied  to  Mrs.  jones 
an  exciirriou  to  xVIr.  Bciiibn's  (the  Curate)  wliefe  they 
h?A  ?]'[  been  fo  v-cll  picaied  The  children  had  beha- 
ved, ?'-.r 'd  I-;::;-  Tunc,  very  wx'l  ;  fo  ti-y  rt-blved  ta 
take  theoi  both  wim  them 

Al  ^-cnmliey  \verc  acqi^ainted  T^'ith  it.— 'What  joy 
there  was  throughout  the  hoide  when  they  heard  of  it  i 
They  ioon  began  to  contider  v/hat  they  ihor.ld  do  to 
pleale  the  Curate's  children,  an.d  they  both  fearched  in 
their  cloiets  to  gather  all  their  play-things  together,  to 
find  fomething  to  give  to  Geoi  ge,  Henry,  ~and  Caro- 
line. Mr.  jones  ihonght  of  providing  for  the  table; 
knowing  that  the  good  Cr^rate  had  a  very  fmall  in- 
come, and  ir;"ny  pcrfons  to  mahitain,  iliedidnot  v/ifii 
to  put  hirn  to  neediefs  expen.ce  to  enterL-iin  them.  She 
made  foiie  nice  paftry  heri'eif,  and  had  two  fowls,  a' 
l-ani,  and  a  hare,  packed.  Tip  ;  belidea  hamper  of  v/ine, 
which  they  wiihcd  to  niake  their  kind  hoW  a  prefent  of. 
The  children  thought  the  time  long  till  they  could  get 
into  the  coach — and  faid  a  hundred  times.  Oh,  if  to- 
morrow was  bnt  here  !  but  before  to-morrow  ,  they 
nrril  go  to  rcil — and  ^vait  the  arrival  of  the  fo  much 
deijrt  d  niorning. 

M:iry  dreamed  of  nothing  but  the  journey.  Some- 
times Lbe  was  fcated  in  the  coach,  driving  away  by  the 
hiih  and  meadows  ;  Ibn^ctimes  ^va]L■:^gm  the  wood, 
v/ii/-  ]\?d  played  at  bali.    Now  came  httlsr 

C  -  ;  :  L:  rbirdi  ihe  ran  forward^  as  (he  the  ugh  t^ 


MORALITY. 


to  kifs  her,  and  found  as  fhe  awoke,  that  flie  had  not. 
little  Caroline,  but  her  pillow  in  her  arms.  She  was 
a  little  difappointed,  hut  glad  to  fhake  olF  fleep,  be- 
caufe  the  day  began  to  dawn.  She  Iprang  out  of  bed, 
dreiled  herfelf  quickly,  and  ran  to  the  parlour.  The 
whole  family  was  in  motion,  bufily  employed  dreflinj 
and  packing  up  ;  but  Charles  did  not  appear. 

Mary  ran  to  roufe  the  lazy  boy,  but  met  him  at  his 
room  door  in  a  very  wretched  ftate  :  he  held  his  hand 
ro  his  head,  and  fighced  piteoufly.  Mary,  in  a  fright- 
ed voice,  called  her  uiother.  and  both  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Jones  ran  up,  and  alked  poor  Charles  what  was  the 
Blatter  with  him  ?  Oh,  faid  he,  my  pleafure  is  all 
over  !  I  have,  during  the  whole  night,  been  torment- 
ed with  a  dreadful  tooth-ache  j  it  feels  as  if  my  head 
would  bi-rlh 

They  all  pitied  poor  Charles,  for  in  fuch  a  Itate  it 
woald  be  dangerous  for  him  to  be  out  long  in  the  a'r  ; 
nor  could  he  en  joy  the  profpecls,  and  the  fight  of  him, 
in  pain,  wordd  dillurb  the  relt  of  the  company,  and 
Ciubitter  their  pleafure.  He  alked,  indeed,  if  the  ex- 
curfion  could  not  be  put  off  for  a  day  or  two  ;  but 
ui'M  was  iir.poirible,  becaufe  the  coach  had  been  order- 
vd  o\  er  night  ;  the  provifioii  had  been  drefied,  and  all 
^.  .  3  ready  ;  lb  poor  Charles  \nui\  Itay  at  home  alone, 

riie  coach  came  ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  jones,  Mary,  and 
hrrle  James,  who,  to  render  thejaiuit  more  agreeable 
to  the  children,  had  been  invited,  iiepped  in,  and 
Cnarles  faw  them  depart,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, — 
They  were  all  forry  to  leave  him  ;  and  at  the  end  of 
tlie  Ivreet  his  mother  leaned  out  of  the  coach,  and  klf- 
fcd  her  hand,  to  comfort  the  unlucky  fick  Charles. 

He  was  very  nneafy  ;  and  throwing  himfelf  on  the 
loS^  groaned  with  pain  ; — and  his  anguiih  was  increaf- 
cd  by  diinking  of  it,  becaufe  he  had  no  one  to  pity  or 
coQjlort  him.  His  mother,  before  ihe  fet  off,  deiired 
Cacbanae  to  go  for  vv'iiiiam  ;  but  he  had  fuch  a  vio- 
lent cold,  that  iiis  father  would  not  allow  him  to  Itir 
out. 

*Iiis  mafter  foon  came  to  give  him  his  lellbas  :  he 
O  3 


EL  E  M  E  N  T  G  OF 


tonlolecl  liim,  and-:  iiiid,  keep  up  your  fpirits,  clenr 
shades,  great  pain  liever  laits  ianjv ;  to  iiiorrow,  per- 
h-iCG,  you  will  beqi^ite  v/ell  :)-:zmii,  Thele  kind  wore 
fi^ade  Charles  liiure  iranqiul,  though  his  anguilh  conti- 
libed.  However,  when  his  maiier  perceived  that  lie 
co'.Jd  not  proSt  hy  his  iniirrdions,  the  pain  was  fo 
great,  and  that  the  other  chilcrea  were  not  there,  iie 
:.oon  iciL  biiii  alone,  and  he  was  now  ao;ain  cir.ite  com- 
ibrtleis. 

Ne^  crrhelei's,  he  did  not  fit  crying  all  the  morning  ^ 
he  thoi;g'it  of  the  poor  man  who  had  the  cancer,  and 
bore  it  patiently,  thoi>(>;h  he  could  not  expect  to  be 
l-f  L'tT  to-morrow.  lie  tried  to  imitate  hia'],  and  to- 
V.  jfJs  ciinner  linie  the  pain  a6tcaily  abaced,  ib  tliat  he 
could  dine  wli'-:   ^:r.  Noel  ;  and  aiier  the  meal,  it 

icemed   c|i.!ie  ^./'^  c.  Who  was  then  fo  happy  as 

Ch,arles  !  He  was  ready  to  jianp  for  joy,  and.  had  only 
'c<;  Ic;  k  lor  aiiU'jcnient  to  render  his  lolitude  agreeable. 
1  .0  went  ilriv  into  his  father's  little  lindy,  and  Idnght 
.for  a  book  a  ith  pictures  in  it,  to  fee  if  he  conld  amufe 
liimfelf  ;  for  his  father  allowed  him  to  take  down  the* 
I)oo]vS,  0!i  conJ-icioii  that  he  neither  tore  nor  dirtied. 
tl:;eni,  and  carefiiUy  replaced  them.  He  foon  found' 
what  delighted  him,  a  book  full  of  pidares  of  animals,' 
and  the  ^neLhods  rd'ed  to  catch  them.  One  print  repre^' 
i'enied  how  they  entrapped  the  elephant ;  another,, 
how  they  chafed  the  iion  ;  and  in  feyeral  others,  how 
tiicy  caught  and  enfnared  foxes,  hares,  patridges,: 
wild  duLKS  and  geefe,  a;id  many  other  animals.  -  Now, 
thor.ohi:  he,  the  time  will  no  more  feem  long  ;  and 
for  abo'.  e  a  c^narter  of  an  hour,  he  thus  chverted  the 
lone]  /  moments  he  was  obliged  to  fpend  by  himfeif. 
At  laif  he  turned  oii  fome  prints,  which  Ihewed  him 
how  fome  people  enfnared  apes.  When  the  apes  were 
i'lily  obfer\ing  the  hnntfman,  he  took  a  bafon  of  wa- 
ter, and  wafhed  his  face  ;  then  he  went  away,  leaving 
the  bafon  on  the  ground  ;  but,  inllead  of  pure  water, 
he  poured  thick  clayey  Vv^atcr  into  it.  As  foon  as  the 
huntfraan's  back  was  turned,  the  ape  crept  cau.tionfly 
forward  to  Vv^alh  hirnfclf,  and  plaiftered  his  eyes  up  in 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  r. 


fuch  a  manner  that  he  cduW  lee  nothing,  and  might  be 
caught  with  very  Uttle  trouble.'  This  cunning  trick 
made  him  laugh  heartily,  and  he  ftarced  up  to  leek  for 
fome  one  vviuli  v^^hom  he  could  talk  about  the  droll 
loo-ks  of  the  monkey  ;  but  no  one  could  he  find  - 
no  jNlary,  no  James,  no  Wiljam  was  there,  and  even 
Pvlr.  Noel  was  gone  out.  •  lie'  had'  nosv  no  niore  plea- 
fure  iniooi^ing  at  the  pidUites  ;  and,  full  of  yexatipn, 
he  ihiit  the  book  and  put  it  in  its  place. 

Afterwards  he  thovight  he --would  try  to  play  at 
foinetliing.  He  fearched  for  his  nine-pines,  and  fet 
them  up,  and  knocked  them  down  with  the  ball  ;  but 
as  he  had  no  one  to  conteif  with  him,  he  was  tired  in 
lefs  than  ten  minutes. 

He  gathered  his  leaden  foidiers  together,  placed 
them  in  order  ;  -but  when  they  were -placed,  he  knew 
not  what  to  do  with  them,  and  was  i\yon  tired  of  them 
too.  Weary  of  them,  and  himl'elf,  he  pur  them  into 
their  box,  and  fat  down  to  conlider  wiiac  he  Ihouid 
next  do. 

-  At  lalf  he  thought  of  his  colours,  which  had  fo 
often  amuied  him  when  James  was  with  him.  He  put 
them  on  the  table,  took  cut  the  lliells,  an(:  fought  for 
one  of  his  prettieif  prints  to  colour  it.  In  fact,  he  be- 
gan to  paint  the  clothes  of  two  perfons  in  thepicbu  c; 
but  when  he  went  on  fi  rther,  he  foon  remarket}  t^iau 
he  wanted  James,  vvho  could  paint  very  v/eli,  and 
knew  how  to  chfe)ore  the  proper  colours  for  every  tiling] 
Charles  had  already  met  Vv^ith  many  parts  of  the  pic- 
ture which  he  was  at  a  ^ofs  how  to  colour;  .and  Itill 
more  diliatisfied  than  ever,  flint  up  his  paintiijg  box. 
Now  he  knew  no  more  what  to  do.  Peeviiiily  he 
threw  himfelf  again  on  the  fofa,  and  lamenting,  bit- 
terly lamenting,  faid,  /oiu  fad  Is  life  without  afrisnd  1 
If  I  fulter,  there  is  no  one  here  to  pity  or  comfort  me; 
no  one  who  would  try  to  foften  my  pain.  If  I  am 
pleafed,  there  is  no  one  to  communicatent  to.  If  I 
play,  I  want  a  companion;  or  it  is  not  like  play  ;  and, 
if  I  work,  I  have  no  one  to  help  me,  or  gi\  e  me  good 
advice  I  Ah  me  I   if  my  dear  T  lary^  if  Wiiiiam,  or 


i64  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S    O  F 

James  was  here  !  Yes,  when  I  am  once  with  them 
again,  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  make  them  love  me  ;  I 
will  be  very  attentive  to  find  out  what  they  like  beftj- 
and  that  moment  do  it — for  there  is  no  Hving  without^ 
them.  Dear  Mary  !  James  !  William  !  will  yos  not 
foon  return  ? 

They  heard  not  the  lamentations  of  the  poor  folita- 
ry  Charles  !  they  came  not !  but  inftead  of  them,  a, 
companion  he  did  not  find  very  agreeable  ;    for  the 
tooth-ache  returned.    Though  his  mother  had  often 
laid  tiiat  it  was  like  a  pig  to  eat  cakes  or  nice  things 
alone  he  looked  for  fome  almondc  covered  with  fugar, 
a'ld  'red  to  eat  them  j  but  Icarecly  had  he  begun  to 
chew  wi.ii  the  coodi  that  had  a  hole  in  it,  than  the  pain. 
i'.^r lcj.  thror!t,h  his  whole  jaw,  and  the  anguilh  was 
irrcprer  iha  ^i  ever,    rie  groaned,  and  v/ould  have  cri- 
ed, ..f      b  .u'  r>or  chought  that  a  boy  ihould  have  more 
^  .'i  L.rf  pail,  jjacientlv. 
;n'.;li  111  pii.ed  by  pain,  he  threw  himfelf 
.  Auuv  ;    fome  o'ac  knocked  at  the  room 
1 : .  i.  cried  he,  hoping  he  ihoald  fee  an  ac- 
c  ;  bv  t  he  was  deceived — it  was  .only  a  Jcw^ 
,rfy  besrd, 

iked,  iil-iiumouredly,  Avhat  he  wanted  ? 
r  father,  laid  he;  is  he  not  at  home  ? 
.  e  ib  n.obody  ai  home,  replied  Charles,  rather 
1  :  aud  t'.rued  from  hir.}. 

/'Ltle 'Daiier  lick?  allied  Ephraim,  that  he  holds^ 
1  •i-cf- — Tell  ine,  my  little  dear,  have  you  any 
t        u:e  matter  with  your  teeth  ? 

.'.-.s.  yes,    anfn'cred  Charles.    Tell  me,  mafter, 
c   .:i'Ai:ed  Epliraim,  whether  there  is  a  hole  in  your  . 
t  )oth.    Let  uie  aook  into  your  mouth  ;  pei'haps  I  caa 
1  -]p  you. 

(,'harles  Vv^as  at  firft  rather  unwilling  ;  but  when 
J  ..r.aira  aflured  him  that  he  had  aire  idy  cured  feveral 
]  ;p;e  of  the  tooth-ache,  tho^-gh  they  were  in  violent 
-  /.  lie  let  him  look  into  his  mouth;  and  Ephruini:,, 
i'ied  i:nat  ne  wo  il^  Ibo'i  bring  fomiLhing  iro.j  his 
u  ,,  ii  houfe^  Lo  Hop  the  p:.in^  and  aiake  iuai  c^Aze  welL 


MORALITY. 


165 


Charles  had  heanl  his  father  fay,  that  when  people 
iickj  they  ought  not  to  take  every   thing  recoin- 
.ded  to  them  as  a  good  remedy  ;  at  lealt  whilft 
/  are  young  and  ignorant,  and  do  not  know  what 
I-  good  for  the  human  body,  and  therefore  might 
rake  foinething  very  hLrrtfnl  and  improper  ; — incieeJ, 
undentand  the  nice  conitruciion  01  the  human 
.....lie;  and  ignorant  people,  by  prefcribing  the  fame 
remidy  for  diiferent    conftitutions,  often  do  much 
harm. 

As  fcon  as  the  jew  was  gone,  he  ^vent  to  Mr.  Noel, 
and  alked  whether  he  might  venture  to  take  wiiat  the 
Jew  would  gi\  e  him.  Mr.  Noel  enquired  directly  of 
the  clerks,  and  fome  other  people  who  were  in  the 
coimting-houfe  looking  over  fovne  goods,  what  fort  of 
a  man  Ephraim  was.  They  all  ga'^  e  huii  a  good  char- 
acter, aiTured  him  that  he  was  an  honeii,  feniibieniaa; 
that  he  had  fome  knowledge  of  phyfic,  and  often 
cured  both  Jews  and  Cnrutians  who  conluited 
him  when  they  were  lick.  Mr.  Noel  himfelf  then  ad- 
viied  Charles  to  take  what  he  Ihould  bring  him. 

In  about  half  an  hour  the  Jew  came  back,  with  two 
little  pkiilers,  and  put  them  behind  his  ears  ;  at  the 
fame  time,  he  niled  up  the  hole  in  his  tooth  with  wax, 
to  preferx'e  it  from  the  cold  air,  and  to  prevent  his  food 
ificking  in  it. 

But,  if  Charles  hadb^en  in  pain  before,  he  was  now 
in  an  agony  ;  it  was  as  if  forks  were  Ifuck  into  his  jaw. 
He  then  grew  quite  impadent,  and  would  have  torne 
the  plaiiters  from  behind  his  ears  ;  but  the  jew  would 
not  permit  him,  and  faid.  Have  a  little  patience, 
mafter ;  no  remedy  has  an  immediate  erlect  :  hov^ever. 
to-morrow  morniao-  I  will  call  0.1  voii  ao;ain,  and 
my  dear  little  pitieat  will  fpeak  in  another  tone,  I  am 
lure. 

Ephraim  now  left  him,  reminding  him  once  more, 
not  to  tear  off  the  plaiiters. 

The  pain  grew  to  infrpportable,  that  probably  he 
.  ..Id  have  torn  them  oif  in  hizc  cf  this  ca  .ition  if  Mr, 


166 


ELEMENTS  OF 


Noel  had  not  taken  him  into  his  room,  and  watched 
hiiTj. 

To-Aards  the  end  of  an  hour,  theangpiili  gradiiallyl 
aba:ed,  aiid  at  frppcrr  he  had  a  little  appetite,  and  re- ' 
lilheci  h;s  food.    lie  went  early  to  bed,  and  foon  feel^' 
into  a  fweec  lleep ;  and  as  had  refted  very  jittle  the' 
mg'^.t  before,  he  iiept  fo  foundjy,  that  he  did  not  wake 
be-..:,re  eli^hr  o'clock  the  foLowiijg  morning — And  when 
he  dAoke, where  was  the  pain  gone? — Ke  felt  no 
more  of  It — and  how  happy  was  he]  He  ran  to  Mr. 
Noei,  and  faid,  i  am  qi  ite  weil:  how  glad  I  am  that 
yo..  did  not  allow  me  to  tear  off  the  plaiilers — Thank 
you — chank  you. 

lie  then  ran  to  the  window,  and  looked  out  every 
moment,  longing  to  fee  tlie  di^ar  jew  come.  About 
nine  o'clock  he  came;  and  the  n:oii]fnt  Ci^arles  car^-rht 
a  giimpie  of  him,  he  hew  to  the  itrcet  door  delighted, 
and  eagerly  opened  it,  to  admit  the  man  whom  the  day 
before  he  had  received  lo  rudely.  Ke  led  him  into  the 
parlour,  faying  all  th^  ^'^'^Y'l  ^  thoufand,  'thonland 
thanks!  my  dear  good  Ephrann,  I  am  quite  well — all 
my  pain  is  gone,  i  have  been  often  told  that  the  jev/* 
were  wicked  people,  but  now  I  fee  that  I  was  wrong. 

It  was  very  wrong,  indeed,  if  little  mafi:er  thought 
fo,  faid  Ephraiii^ ;  and  when  he  knows  more  of  the 
Jews,  he  will  fee  more  clearly  hismiilake.  I?i  every  re^  I 
i/gion  there  arc  good  -people^  I  do  not  deny  but  there- 
are  many  wicked  people  among  our  nation,  and  ho\yr 
many  Chriftians  lie  and  t^eal  \  —but  we  are  ail  men— 
defcended  from  the  fame  father,  and  ferve  the  fame 
God;  and  he  who  difpifes  his  fellow-creatures  on  ac- 
count of  their  being  called  Jews,  flies  in  the  face  of 
his  Maker,  We  are  commanded  to  love  all  men— - 
we  are  all  brothers,  and  fliould  only  defpifc  thofe  who 
fleal,  and  commit  crimes,  which  render  them  ufelefs, 
if  not  a  peft,  to  foeisty. 

But  continued  Charles,  y(im  cannot  fay  that  there 
are  not  many  cheats  among  the  Jews. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  fay  fo,  replied  Epbraiai;  there 
arc  cheats  euougli  among  oi.»r  natipn,  and  ^^monor 


MORALITY. 


167 


iMiriftians,  for  the  matter  of  that — but  if  o-;r  natioa 
;  heat,  the  Chriitians  themfelves  are  the  caufe  of  it. 
They  defpife  us,  and  do  not  allow  us  gain  our  live- 
hood  in  an  hon-eA  v/ay  ;  fo  many  ignorant  Jews  are 
'erome  cheats,  becaufe  they  think  that  they  live  a- 
[K  ng  enemies ;  biit  there  are  many  good  Jews  who 
trurh,  and  give  money  to  the  poor;  and  fuch 
i  deferve  our  love^  whether  they  are  Jews  or 
liriftians. 

Charles  perceived  that  he  was  v.Tong  in  difliking 
jie  Jews,  and  lappofmg  that  they  were  worfe  than 
):iier  men;  and  he  promifed  in  future  to  love  them  as 
veil  as  the  rel\of  mankind.    Afterv/ards  Ephraim  put 
1  frelh  plaiilers  behind  his  ears,  and  bade  him  re- 
nbcr  that  a  Jew  had  felt  for  him  when  he  was  in 
1,  and  treated  him  Uke  a  fbllow-creature. 
He  went  av/ay,   but  his  behaviour  had  won 
riuirieb'  heart,  and  from  that  hour  he  nev«r  fpoke 
efpclefuliy  of  a  Jew. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R  XXXIII. 


^  yf  E  A  N  W  H  I  L  E  the  coach  rolled  with  all  the 
lVX*^°'"P'^^y  towards  the  village  where  the  curate 
ived.  Mr.  Jones  reckoned  that  they  Ihould  arrive 
here  by  ten  .o'clock,  and  they  all  anticipated  the  happy 
lOLirs  they  expeded  to  enjoy;  efpecially  the  children, 
^\ho  thought  that  the  horfes  never  went  quick  e- 
lough,  Nicholas  fmacked  his  whip,  and  away  they 
sveat,  as  if  they  flew. — Now  all  wa^  right;  the  chil- 
iren  clapped  their  hands,  crying,  Yes,  that  is  fharm- 
ng  !— -Now  we  lhall  foon  be  there  !  But,  in  the  midft 
Dt  their  rejoicin_g — there  was  a  fudden  Ihock— -all  were 
filent — what  a  paufe  !  The  carriage  funk  down  on 
one  iide.  James  was  thrown  into  Mrs.  Joaes'  lap  her 
bulband  fell  on  Mary,  and  almolt  cruihed  the  poor 
girl  to  death.    What  has  happened?  cried  they  all—- 


i68 


ELEMENTS  OF 


What  is  the  matter,  Nicholas?  Nicholas  got  off  his 
box,  Icratched  his  head,  and  laid — A  fine  job  this  is 
to  be  fure  !  Tell  us  what  has  happened,  called  out 
Mr.  Jones,  hailily.  Why,  anlwered  Nicholas,  one' 
of  the  wheels  is  oif-»— What  do  you  advife  me  to  do? 
If  I  had  any  one  to  leave  with  the  horles,  I  would  run 
to  the  next  villaoe  for  a  black-lmith,  lo  help  mend  it. 

Mr.  Jones  was  not  of  the  fame  opinion  ;  he  forefaw 
that  the  party  would  find  the  time  very  long,  if  they 
had  to  remain  an  hoar  or  more  ftill  in  the  coach  ;  he 
therefore  tiiought  it  belt  that  Nicholas  ihould  ftay  to 
take  care  of  the  horfes,  and  they  themfeives  wor.M 
walk  to  the  village  to  feek  for  a  black-lmith.  This 
propoial  pleafed  them  all;  and  they  i'et  oft'  on  foot, 
defiring  Nicholas  to  follov/  with  the  coach  as  foon  as 
he  could.  ^ 

The  neareft  way  was  a  foot  patli,  through  a  fiel^ 
juft  ibwn  with  weat ;  and  the  children  Teemed  to  gain 
new  life,  when  they  came  out  of  the  coach  into  the 
free  air.  AH  at  once  James  fprang  forward,  bent 
down  on  the  ground,  then  Icarted  up  again,  threw 
his  hat  before  him,  as  if  to  catch  fomcthing,  and  then 
darted  forward  again. 

Mary ,  who  was  curious  to  know  what  he  had  ia 
his  eye,  ran  after  him.  At  lail  he  caught  what  h? 
purfued,  as  Mary  came  up  with  him,  and  both  rejoic* 
ed  at  having  taken  a  little  prifoner.  rvleanwhile  Mr, 
and  Mrs.  Jones  were  in  converfation,  and  did  not  ob- 
ferve  them.  However,  they  were  foon  oblidged  to 
flop,  for  they  beard  Mary  fcream  out,  in  a  terrified 
tone,  dear  James,  ah  I  do  not  do  it— pray!  —  pray 
hold  your  hand !  And  thefe  entreaties  having  no  ef- 
fect, Ihe  called  to  her  father  and  mother  for  help.  Mr. 
Jones  could  not  imagine  what  the  children  v/ere  dif- 
puting  about,  but  Vv^aved  his  head  for  them  to  come  to 
him.  They  came,  Mary  firit,  quite  out  ot  breath. 
Dear  father,  faid  Ihe,  you  do  not  know  what  a  wick- 
ed boy  James  is  !  he  has  jull  ca^^ght  a  fieid-moufe,  and, 
for  all  I  can  fay,  will  cut  its  ears  and  tail  off  The 
poor  moufc  !  it  never  did  him  any  harm  !  He  has  aU 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y.  169 

ready  opened  his  knife — only  look  at  him  !  Jaraescame 
up  fniiiing,  holding  the  moufe  in  one  hand,  and  the 
knife  in  the  other.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  afked 
Mr.  Jones. 

James.  I  wilh  to  puniih  this  iiule  thief,  who  fteais 
the  poor  farmer's  corn. 

Mr.  Jones.  .  You  are  a  cruel  boy  !  Fie,  for  fname. 
He  -who  can  tm-mcnt  a  Utile  kar ml efs  a?ilm.al.,  has  cer- 
tainly a  had  heart.  He  accuftoms  himfelf  by  degrees 
to  cruelty,  and  at  laft  he  will  find  a  favage  joy  in  it: 
and  after  tormenting  animals,  will  not  foil  to  tor^nent 
men. 

J^mes.  But  could  we  not  do  very  well  without 
mice  ^  They  are  infignificant  creatures,  which  are  of 
no  life  in  the  world. 

Mr.  Jones.  Aad  is  the  watch,  which  your  father 
has  given  you,  fomething  infignificant  .^^ 

James.  By  no  means.  I  would  not  give  it  for  a 
thoufand  mice. 

i  Mr.  Jones.  Neverthelefs,  there  appears  in  the 
ftru6ture  of  this  little  moufe 's  body  a  thoufand  times 
more  contrivance  than  in  your  watch.  Look  at  tliis 
little  ear,  through  whi<:h  it  hears  all  that  paifes  round 
it :  through  this  organ  it  was  warned  when  you  pur- 
fued  it :  and  thefe  pretty  eyes,  in  which  the  forms  of 
ill  the  objects  before  it  are  painted  ;  and  thefe  lharp 
:eeth,  with  which  it  can  gnaw  the  hardeft  grain:  and 
:heie  neatly  turned  paws  :  this  Ikin  as  foft  as  velvet. 
But  you  would  be  i\ill  more  aitonilhed  if  you  could  fee 
Us  infide  ;  if  you  could  obferve  how  every  thing  pailes 
:here  topreferve  hfe;  how^  the  little  ftomack  difiolves 
:he  food  ;  how  it  feperates  the  bel\  juices,  and  carries 
;  |:hem  by  very  fine  channels  ftill  further  ;  how  flelh, 
olood  and  hones,  are  formed  of  them ;  and  how  the 
excrements  pafs  through  the  guts  and  intelVmes.  Put 
/our  hand  on  its  breait,  and  feel  how  its  heart  beats, 
:o  pulh  the  blood  through  the  little  veins.  Your  w^atch 
;nay  be  made  very  ingenioufly  ;  but  do  you  think  it 
iwould  ever  produce  any  little  watches  .^^  You  would 
pe  glad  of  that,  for  you  might  loon  have  plenty  of 


ELEMENTS  OF 


watches  to  fell  and  make  your  fortune.  But  to  tkis  de- 
gree of  perfe<^ion  they  can  never  be  carried.  The  molt 
beautiful  things  made  by  man  are  dead,  and  without 
fenfe  ;  God  alone  can  give  life  and  reafon.  This  moufe 
has,  probably,  already  brought  many  litle  mice  into 
the  world,  and  will  certainly  bring  forth  many  more, 
if  you  fpare  its  life. 

James,    Yet,  with  all  this,  it  is  good  for  nothing. 

Mr,  Jones.  That  you  cannot  certainly  know. 
There  are  a  thoufand  things  in  the  world  very  ufeful, 
no  doubt,  yet  we  do  not  plainly  fee  their  ufefulnefs. 
If  he  who  made  this  little  moufe  certainly  knew  that  it 
was  good  for  nothing,  why  has  he  employed  fo  much 
arc  in  making  it?  \However,  I  can  |ioi.n,t  out  to  you 
Ibme  things  that  it  is  ufefid  for. 

Look  at  that  raven,  how  gravely  it  ftalks;  what  a 
bautiful  black  plumage  it  has  ;  and  thole  fine  feathers, 
•which  ornament  its  wings,  are  very  ufeful  when  we 
w'lih  to  write  very  neatly.  For  this  raven,  and  hi^ 
brothers,  are  mice  fent  into  the  world.  They  hunt 
^hem  out ;  and,  when  they  have  caught,  they  eat  them:, 
;md  find  them  as  reliihing  as  you  think  roalted  hare : 
therefore  mice  are  of  as  much  ufe  as  hares. 

James.  But  ftill  mice  do  marni;  they  devour  the 
poor  peafant's  wheat  and  rye. 

Mr.  Jones  The  injury  they  do  is  very  trifling. 
They  commonly  only  gather  up  the  grain  which  the 
farmer  lets  fall ;  and  the  mofl  part  of  it  would  proba- 
bly perifli,  if  thofe  little  notable  mice  did  not  carry  it 
to  their  nefls.  And  fuppoling  they  are  fed  by  hiuiger 
Ibmetimes  to  fteal  a  couple  of  ears -out  of  a  fheaf  of  corp, 
what  injury  is  that  ?  The  farmer  will  never  mifs  it. 

James.  But  I  have  heard  that  they  Ibmetimes  mul- 
tiply fo  faft,  that  they  ofien  ravage  a  whole  field. 

Mr.  Jones.  Then,  indeed,  it  is  time  to  deftroy 
them — but  without  tormenting  them  :  and  they  fhould 
be  put  to  de^ith  as  quickly  as  poihble.  If  the  torments 
they  endured  would  bring  back  the  wheet,  or  teach 
them  honelty,  there  would  befome  excufe  for  it  ;  but 
this  moufe  will  not  be  lefs  a  thiefafter  you  have  cut  ofi 
its  ears  and  tail. 


MORALITY. 


James..  Well,  then,  I  will  kill  the  little  thief  be- 
fore he  does  any  more  harm. 

Ah  !  my  dear  James  !  cried  Mary,  do  not  kill  it ; 
give  mc  the  little  mouie,  I  pray  you  give  it  me  I  Caa 
you  deny  me  ? 

He  gave  it  to  her,  and,  as  fooa  as  llie  got  it,  Ihe  let 
it  run  away,  calling  after  it,  ran,  rmi,  poor  animal^ 
till  you  find  again  your  little  children. 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  were  pleafed  with  her, 
Mrs.  Jones  killed  Mary,  and  faid,  good  girl  !  you 
have  perhaps  faved  the  lives  of  four  or  five  little  niice^ 
^vho  mnft  have  perilhecl  with  hunger  if  their  mother 
had  been  killed. 

Mr,.  Jones  liiill  coTitinued  the  fubjedl:.  He  faid,  that 
the  fmalleft  animals  were  of  fome  ufe  ;  and  that  a  good 
man  ought  not  to  kill  the  leail  worm,  unlefs  it  injured 
him,  or  that  its  death  would  be  ufefrJ  to  him  ;  but  even 
in  that  cafe,  it  was  unjuit  and  cruel  to  torment  them. 
He  defcribed,  in  fo  aiTeding  a  manner,  what  anguifii 
it  would  have  given  the  poor  moufe  if  he  had  cut  off  its 
j  cars  and  tail,  that  it  brought  tears  into  both  the  chil- 
I  dren's  eyes. 

Bat  IS  it  not  very  wrong,  faid  Mary,  in  thofe  wick- 
!  ed  butchers  to  kill  the  poor  ihe  p  ?  They  do  no  harm  ! 
They  do  no  harm,  anfwered  Mr.  Jones,  but  their 
death  is  advantageous  to  us  ;  for  we  eat  their  fleih,  and 
their  wool  and  Ikln  form  the  moll  ufeful  part  of  our 
cloathing.  Some  time  or  other  the  Iheep  mufl  die. 
I  Th^y  crop  the  grafs  on  which  infeds  live,  and  drink  the 
water  in  which  rhoufands  of  little  living  creatures 
fv.  im.  Birds  pick  up  .flies  and  worms ;  and  men  are 
fi.pported  by  animals,  birds,  filh  and  vegetables.  So 
tliat  the  world  contains  a  vail  variety  of  creatures, 
which  are  all  linked  together  by  mutual  wants.  The 
fheep,  for  along  time,  enjoyed  content  before  it  was 
brought  to  the  penn;  and  if  the  butcher  kills  it  quickly, 
it  does  not  fuifer  near  lb  much  pain  as  it  would  dq lilt 
died  by  degrees,  of  ikknefs  or  old  age. 

P  2 


172 


ELEMENTS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXXiy. 

/'^ OlWEPvSING  in  this  manner,  they  reac hed  the 
%^  village.  Mr.  Jones  enqviirecl  for  a  blackiniith  ; 
but  the  pealants  informed  him  that  he  was  gone  to 
Vvork  at  thejuitice's  houfe,  which  wss  not  far  oit;  and, 
as  he  was  a  very  civil  gentleman,  they  were  fure  that 
he  would  allovv'  hiin  to  go  and  aihfl  the  coachman  the 
moment  he  was  alked. 

Mr.  Jones  went  to  the  magiArate,  and  fimply  told 
him  of  their  little  dil^a-eis ;  he  inilantly  permitted  the 
biackfmith  to  attend  him,  who  went  home  for  his 
tools,  and  hardened  to  the  coach.  Meanwhile  the  par- 
ty went  to  the  inn,  to  wait  for  the  arrival  of  the 
coach. 

Though  they  did  not  feel  any  thing  like  hunger, 
yet  Mr.  Jones  deiired  the  landlord  to  bring  them  a 
little  refreshment,  that  they  might  make  a  proper  re- 
turn for  fnting  in  his  room. 

The  landlord,  who  was  playing  with  fome  farm.ers 
at  cyrds,  v/as  fo  eager  abont  the  game,  that  he  did  not 
give  hii.i'cii  the  leait  trouble  to  pleafe  his  guefts.  He 
even  fce:ned  vexed  that  they  called  for  jbmething; 
rofe  ha  Icily  from,  the  tabic  with  an  angry  countenance, 
and  called'  up  tbe  llairs,  Miilrefs,  bring  fome  bread 
aJid  butter  for  tiie  gentlefolks  I  Then  he  quickly  feat- 
ed  himfeif  again,  caught  rp  the  cards,  and/aid,  coiiic, 
deal  av/ay. 

His  Vv  ile  brought  in  the  bread  and  butter,  but  forv 
getting  a  knife,  they  could  not  cut  their  bread,  or 
ipread  the  butter  ;  and  Mr.  Jones  was  obliged  once 
iiiore  to  interrupt  the  landlord's  game. 

He  went  to  hhn,  and  tapping  him  gently  on  the 
jhoulder,  fakl,  my  friend,  v/e  have  not  a  knife;  a 
run  ofiikluck,  as  it  is  called,  had  already  made  him 
very  unreafonable ;  and^  as  if  his    guelis  had  been 


MORALITY. 


^73 


the  caufe  of  it,  he  darted  a  furious  look  at  him,  and, 
fpriiTPHig  to  the  door,  alked  his  wife,  with  a  curfe, 
why  iiie  had  forviOtten  to  bring  a  knife  ? 

His  trtajbiing  wife  brought  it  in  a  moment  but,  as 
foon  as  ihe  entered  the  room,  her  hnfband  loaded  her 
with  abi  ie.  and  faid,  you  pre  a  fine  millrels  of  an  inn, 
indeed!  throwing  the  cards  at  her  head.-  That  the 
poor  woman  was  '>  ery  angry,  may  nat\ Tally  be  fuppof- 
ed.  You  fhanielefs  man,  faid  fhe  ;  is  it  thus  you  treat 
your  wife?  Ml'H  I,  the  whole  day,  work  hke  a 
horlc  p — All  the  buiiiiefs  lies  on  me  ;  and  you — you 
do  nothing  elfe  but  eat,  drink  and  play  ;  you  have  al- 
ready run  through  my  whole  property,  and  now  you 
iiie  me  like  a  dog.  This  ipeech  rendered  the  brutal 
man  fliii  more  furious ;  he  ran  to  feize  a  whip  which 
hung  agaim't  the  wall,  to  beat  her  ;  but  Ihe  not  think- 
ing it  prudent  to  wait  for  his  Itrokes,  flew  into  the 
flreet.  A  lu'cle  boy  would  have  followed  his  mother  ; 
biu  tumbling  over  fomething  on  the  floor,  began  to 
cry  piico.ifiy.  His  father,  inltead  of  having  any  com- 
panion for  him,  gave  him  a  violent  flroke  with  the 
whip,  and  pufhing  him  into  the  flreet,  Ihut  the  door-- 
violently^ 

The  farmers  who  had  been  playing  with  him,  fhock— 
ed  at  this  brutal  behaviocir,  flipped  quietly  out  of  the 
room,  and  left  Mr.  Jpnes  and  his  family  alone.  The 
children  were  half  dead-  with  fear,  almoft  afraid  to 
breath.  At  lait  James  faid,  after  looking  round  the 
j?oom,  to  be  f.;re  that  the  landlord  was  quite  out  of 
hearing,  is  not  rhis  a  vpry  wicked  man  ?  I  never  iiv 
my  life  law  fuch  a  one  before.  Our  man:er  has  ofteiv 
told  us,  that  we  ought  to  love  all  men  ;  but  furely  fee 
did  not  mean  to  include  fuch  a  rogue  as  this.  I  cannot 
help  hating  him.    V/hat  do  you  think,  Sir 

Why  do  you  think,  afked  Mr.  Jones,  that  a  man 
who  throrghthe  negligence  of  his  parents,  or  thought-- 
lefTnefs  of  a  maid,  unfortunately  made  a  cripple  in  his 
childhood,  deierves  to  be  hated  ? 

Certainly  not  anfwered  James.    How  could  the  poor 
jlian  help/it  ?  It  ^YOu^d  be  a  great  misfortune-  to  be 
P  3 


^74 


KLEMENl'S  OF 


:ai:ie. — I  Ihould  pity  biiii,  and  help  him,  if  I  could. 

Yet  you  dare  to  hate  a  v/icked  riian  interr opted 
i^'Ir.  Jones,  whom  you  ouglit  to  pity,  and  help,  if  you 
could.  For  a  ivickdd  ?nan  is  lyiuch  more  an  ohjeci-  of  pity 
th.it  a  cripple.  In  general,  his  bad  habits  are  caught 
iroiii  his  parents,  or  thofe  whom  he  has  hved  with: 
a:-'.'  when  theie  habits  have  been  fixed  thirty  or  forty 
years,  it  is  often  as  dilHcult  to  overcome  ri^iem  as  to 
make  a  contracled  hmb  fcrait.  Belides,  dear  James, 
beiic'.  eme,  a  wicked  nuin  fiiiiers  more  than  the  molt 
miierable  cripple  I  W  hy  then  Ihoidd  we  not  pity, 
him  ?  I  \rill  novv'  fpeak  to  the  lau'-ilord  ;  and  you  Ihall 
).car  out  of  his  o-.va  mouth  that  he  deierves  compal:!- 

Oh  I  pray  do  not,  dear  fir,  cried  James  ;  leave  the 
wickecl  man  aione,  he  will  only  veK  you  ;  and  Mrs. 
Jones  and  iMary  ioined  in  the  entreaties;  bat  Mr. 
J (mes  rilenced  them  by  fay inos  tliat  we  ought  not  to, 
t>e  too  care  fid  of  our  i  elves  vvhen  we  v.'iihto  do  ^pody 
however,  do  not  be  imcaly  about  me  ;  i  am  mairer  of 
my  temper,  and  humanity  requires  that  I  fnouid  give 
Iqme  good  counfel  to  tliis  poor  man. 

The  landlord  now  entered,  with  marks  of  fury  hill 
in  his  face. 

Where  is  the  child  ?  aihed  Mr.  Jones.  I  hope  it  is 
not  hiu't. 

Hi-rt,  indeed,  anfwered  the  landlord*  what  harm 
could  come  to  it  ?  The  brat  will  livelong  enough  ;  iU 
'^veeds  feldom  perifh. 

Mr.  yores.    !^-.)  he  is  not  your  fon  ! 

Landlord.    VvMiv,  whofe  fliould  he  be  ? 

Mr.  yones.  If  he  be,  honell  friend,  pray  tell  me 
hovv  a  father  could  treat  his  own  child  fo  barbarouily  } 
I'he  child  did  nothing  v/rong,  he  fell  by  chance;  and, 
bccauie  he  was  hurt  by  the  fall,  began  to  cry  ;  and 
iniiead  of  pitying  it,  as  you  ought  to  have  done,  you 
give  it  a  blew. 

Landlord.  You  fpeak  juft  like  our  p?n-fon  ,  he  often 
couies  to  preach  a  fermon  to  me  after  I  have  given  my 
v/iie  a  black  eye.    Stilly  Sir,  you  do  not  feel  where  the 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  y.  175 

iiflioe  pluches  ;  for  if  you  did  but  know  how  many  cares 

I  have,  you  would  not  woiider  fo  much  that  I  fome- 

tii.ues  fly  into  a  palhon. 

Mr.  Jones.  And  ho'w  came  you  to  be  fo  full  of  cares-? 

Yoa  feeiii  to  have  a  good  houfe,  well  iituated,  for  cuft- 
jjom,  an  honeil:  wife,  and  healthy  children, 
i    La-fidlord.    You  fpeak  as  if  you  knew  all  about  it. 

If  you  v/ere  in  my  fituation,  if  you  had  a  wife  who 
[every  day  reproached  you  for  fquanderlng  away  her 

fortune,  i£  all  your"  children  cared  more  for  their  mo- 
;  ther  than  lor  you,  and  if  you  v/ere  afraid  every  day  of 

being  dragged  to  prifon  by  your  creditors,  you  would 
'ilng  in  another  tone.  You  know  not  where  the  bone 
lllicks;  yet  you  talk  away.    It  is  true,  my  huufe  has 

tolerable  cuito:n  ;  buc  h.vlf  a  mile  from  hence  l#'es  a 

droll  rogue,     ho  talks  over  all  the  formers,  i'^  z-icy 

drink  their  ale  Willi  him,  wdiile  mine  grovv  S  :oL;ri;i  Liie 

callv. 

Air.  "Jones.  If  Ij,  indeed  you  are  to  be  t"-^:-!  ;  hut 
do  not  laliK^ill  what  I  ai^:  ^:oiii^^  to  ;.;;/  :  ■•.  ^  ■  to 
me  as  if  all  your  :ri<  n M-vu.  e5  \.  e'"^  o  .V  ;  ;  -  r-ch^ 
If  you  have  iquaii'.ti-^.:  1    v>  .  is 

it  to  be  wondered  ac  iha:  l^ie  rcproac /  -^'-'^^i 
if  yoa  beat  your  children  v/ichovit  a  ccr.v',  is  it  not 
natural  that  they  iliould  love  their  mother  better  than 
you  }  As  for  your  creditors,  yovi  would  no:  ha\  e  them 
I- to  be  afraid  of,  if  you  had  been  careful  not  10  run  into 
I  debt.    If  you  had  properly  managed  your  wife's  for- 
|  tane  and  minded  your  buiinefs,  you  miglit  have  lived 
quietly  in  your  own  houfe,  where  no  one  would  have 
dared  to  moleil  you.    If  your  children  flv  from  you, 
'  and  your  neighbours  let  your  ale  pa'ow  four,  is  it  not 
all- yovir  own  fault  ?  Your  ill-humour  frightens  them 
away  ;  who  will  flay  ^in  a  houfe  with  a  man  who  takes 
fo  little  pains  to  pieafe,  ralfes  fuclt  a  riot  in  the  houfe, 
beats  his  wife,    and  kicks   his   children  ?  And,  Mr» 
Landlord,  I  mull  tell  you  freely  my  determination:  if 
yoii  do  not  alter  your  behaviour,  I  will  never  come  to 
your  houfe  agaiji. 

Landlord,    As  to  that^  I  believe  I  wiih  to  he  civil  ; 


E  L  E  11  E  N  T  S  OF 


yet  I  cannot  help  being  angry  when  thir.gs  go  crofs  ; 
for  my  father  was  pailioaate.  my  brDther  was  pailion- 
ate;  i really  think  i  '  ;  ;\Vciys  remain  lo  :  it  has 
run  :n  our  blood  f  time. 

Mr.  j;  ?e  ^  r  .i,v  :  given  him  forae  more  good 
ad'  'fv\  .  .or  hiS  brer.d  avid  bu iter,  and  got  into  the 
r  V,         iiad  aircatiy  waited  a  few   minutes  for 

.  i^.n.  i'ney  were  aii  glad  to  get  away  fi'om  this  an- 
gry iiian  ;  but  Mr.  Jones  faid  to  James, do  you  not 
now  lee  how  mr.ch  this  man  deferves  your  pity?  In- 
llead  of  loving,  every  creat\ire  delpifes  him  ;  and  Ifhe 
thiiiks  of  his  loriTier  life,  or  his  fit  are  profpects,  he 
iiads  flo  fatisfadion.  And  the  iirit  cavfe  of  iiis  ranery 
v/as  this  ;  from  his  infancy  ne  was  brought  up  by 
\vicked  men.  and  was  always  with  theai  ;  did  you 
not  near  iinu  fay,  that  both  his  fatiier  and  brother 
w  ere  pciilionate  ? 

James  felc  tlie  truth  of  the  obfei  vation,  and  fmcere- 
ly  pitied  the  milerable  wrecchj  who  delfroyed  all  hi^ 
own  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


THEY  now  came  to  the  vilkge  v7here  the  Cu- 
rate lived.  Mr.  Jones  ordered  the  coachman  to 
godn*eclIy  to  his  houfe.  rhe  chiidrea  Ji  tuped  fof 
joy  ;  it  was  almoll  impoliible  to  keep  them  uiry  longer 
quiet  ;  they  knell  upon  the  feat,  aad  waitcJ,  full  of 
impatience  ,  for  the  moment  when  the  Curate,  with 
his  ch-ldre:i,  ihoidd  come  out  and  embrace  them.  Af- 
ter a  few  mo  acmes  the  coach  flopped  ;  and  the  chil^ 
dren  aiked  Mr,  Jon  f^s  vs/hethcr  this  was  not  thehoufe.J^ 
Yes,  anfwer  ;d  he,  there  Itands  the  houfe  which  you 
have  fo  long  deiired  to  fee.  Tiiey  danced  with  de- 
light. But  is  it  not  wonderful,  faid  Mr.  Jones,  that 
no  one  cuQies  out  to  receive  us  ?  ihope  they  are  not 
from  iiome. 


MORALITY. 


177 


He  got  out  of  tke  coach,  and  helped  his  wife  and 
chiluren  out — but  liili  no  one  appeared.    He  went 
through  the  front  garden — there  was  no  Hving  foul 
to  be  ieen,    fie  entered  the  houfe — Ihll  he  faw  no- 
body,   fie  tapped  at  the  chainber -door — come  in  ! 
cried  a  weak  voice.    They  opened  the  door — Ah, 
what  a  light ;  There  Aood  four  beds  and  a  cradle  ; 
George  fat  on  one ;  and  in  the  other  lay  Henry  and 
little  Caroline;  in  the  third  lay  the  Curate's  wife,  and 
the  fo'iirth  feerned  to  be  dellined  for  the  Curate  ;  an 
infant  was  deeping  in  a  cradle.    In  the  little  corner, 
[which  liill  remained,  fat   the  Curate  with  his  head 
leaning  on  his  hand.    And  when  the  guefcs  had  enter- 
ed  the  chainber,  they  had  fcarcely  room  to  move.  My 
dear  Sir,  cried  the  Curate,  in  a  forrowfid  voice,  why 
do  you  come  into  this  melancholy  place?  Iain  alinolt 
overcome  by  miiery.    There  lie  my  poor  children  in 
the  iniall  pox.    George  is  alnioll  out  of  danger  ;  but: 
j  my  dear  Henry — my  fweet  little  Caroline  !  (here  a  tear 
sftole  down  his  cheek.)    See,  have  I  not  caafe  to  la- 
iment  ? — There  they  lie.  ^  Their  eyes  have  been  clofed 
already  three  days.    Alas  I  and  I  know  not  whether 
they  will  ever  open  them  again.    There  too  lies  my 
dear  wife  ;  it  is  only  a  few  days  fnice  ihe  was  deli- 
;  vered  of  that  infant,  and  Ihe  is  fo  w  eak  that  Ihe  caa 
fcarcely  fit  up  in  bed  ;  befides,  Ihe  has  got  a  badbrealh 
i  The  poor  woman  can  fcarcely  endur-e  fo  much  pain. 
I  As  for  me,  it  is  almolt  a  fortnight  fmce  I  have  had  any 
(deep.    But,  alas!  noz  two  only,  bat  many  v/eeks, 
wuald  I  watch  ;  I  would  gladly  endure  ail,  if  I  could 
only  fave  the  lives  of  my  children.    If  I  could  but  once 
fee  them  well  again  I  My  poor  little  darlings,  my  Hsn- 
ry  !  my  Caroline  ! 

Mr.  Jones  interrupted  him  by  catching  his.  hand, 
on  wdiich  their  tears  iilently  dropped.  They  were 
all  excreamiy  alreded,  and  James  and  Mary  wept 
aloud. 

Deareft  friend,  continued  the  Curate,  what  can  I  do 
with  you  ?  J  cannot  even  offer  you  a  chair.  I  have 
ftobody  that  can  drefs  you  a,  Uc  of^  men;  and,  if  I 


178  ELEMENTSOF 

had,  you  could  not  reiiih  it  in  this  hofpital.  Wefil 
I  to  take  you  into  die  parlour,  1  could  not  be  with 
you  ;  I  cannot  leave  my  lick  children.  Do  not 
take  it  ill  of  me,  for  if  the  Bifliop  came,  I  conld  not 
wait  on  hini.  For  if  one  of  my  children  diould 
die,  who  could  make  me  amends  for  its  lofs  ?  Leave 
then  I  pray  yon,  this  difrnal  abode,  and  go  to  the 
inn.  The  landlord  is  a  very  hooest  man  ;  and,  I  hope, 
he  will  make  a  point  of  treadnor  you  v/elL 

Mr.  Jones  now  tried  to  conrfort  hini  as  well  as  he^ 
could;  and  laid,  among  other  things,  take  courage, 
your  forrow  will  foon  give  way  to  joy  ;  after  a  hard 
winter  follows  a  cheerful  fpring. 

Mrs.  Jones  feated  herfelf  near  Mrs.  Benfon's  bed, 
and  cried  to  comfort  her,  even  v/hile  Ihe  herfelf  Ihed 
iiv'uy  rears. 

nr-ij  and  Mary  crept  to  the  Tick  children's  pilloWj 
a.,.,       >  them  how  much  they  pitied  them. 

They  .hen  all  took  a  mournful  leave  of  this  dif- 
treffed  faimly,  and  went  to  the  iim. 

They  had  very  little  appetite  for  their  meal ;  they 
eat  a  few  bits  hailily,  and  drank  a  glafs  or  two  of 
wine;  but  they  fent  the  hamper  to  the  Curate,  beg- 
ging him  to  accept  of  it,  and  drink  a  little  more  than 
uihal,  that  he  might  be  able  to  bear  watching  and  dif- 
trefs.  After  two  hours  had  paifed  away  in  compairi-, 
onate  complaints,  Mr.  Jones  faid  to  his  family,  it  is 
very  pleaiaat  to  vifit  our  friends,  v/hen  all  goes  well-, 
and  they  are  happy!  but  it  is  Ihll  kinder  to  fuccour 
them  when  they  are  in  trouble.  Come,  let  us  go  ?r- 
gain  to  them,  and  try,  as  much  as  is  polhble,  to  fof^- 
ten  their  di drefs.  1  will  coaverfe  with  the  Curate; 
yon,  my  dear,  may  chat  with  his.  wife;  and  do  you, 
children,  gather  all  the  little  prefents  together  v/hicb 
you  have  brojght  v/ith  you,  and  carry  them  to  your 
tick  play  mates.  Thole  good  people  will  be  pleafed 
when  they  lee  that  we  take  a  part  in  their  forrow. 
They  were  all  ready  to  do  as  he  defired,  Mrs.  Jones 
dellred  the  landiad>^  to  provide  them  with  a  fr/ppei*; 
and  give  the  brokea  viduals  which  they  had  brought 


MORALITY. 


179 


with  them  to  the  poor ;  but  they  took  the  fowls, 
thinking  that  the  lick  fiimiiy  might  be  tempted  to 
sat. 

'  They  all  hurried  away;  and  when  they  entered 
the  lick  room,  the  poor  patients  feemed,  for  a  time, 
to  have  forgotten  their  A  iierir:gs. 

Mr.  Jones  feated  himfeif  near  the  Curate,  and  en-  , 
ideavoured,  by  his  couverfaiion,  to  raife  his  fpirits. 
He  related  how  much  his  children  had  futrered  when 
they  had  the  fmall-pox,  and  talked  again  and  again 
of  the  danger  they  were  in  ;  yet  he  was  able  to  lay^ 
[that  they  had  happily  gone  through  it  all.  During 
this  converfation,  the  Curate  in  fome  meafure  reco- 
'v.ered  his  ufual  cheerfulnefs. 

I  Mr.  Jones  di'ew  near  to  bis  wif€,  who  was  fuck- 
ling  her  child^  which  made  her  teel  fo  much  pain  in 
jher  bread,  xhat  ilie  preiied  her  teeth  together  to  avoid 
crying  x)ut.    Mrs.  Jones  in  a  tone  of  corapaffion  told 

Mier  how  much  Ihe  had  endured  with  a  bad  breaft  ; 

,  and  pointed  our  rlie  remedy  which  had  foftened  her 
pain,  and  at  lail:  healed  it.  Mrs.  Benfon  hl^ened  at- 
tentively, pr^ffed  her  hand,  and  faid,  dear  friend, 
you  are  an  angle,  whom  God  has  fent  to  give  me 
llrengrh  to  bear  my  fufferings.  My  heart  is  grown 
lighter  fuice  you  came  here. 

Mary   and  James  went  firft  to  the  bed  where 
Henry  and  Caroline  lay,  and  gave  them  fome  pretty 

'  play-things  which  they  had  brought  for  them.  Mary 
had  got  for  Caroline  a  little  fet  of  kitchen  furniture, 
plates,  porringers,  fpoons,  knives,  tea-cups,  &;c. 
James  put  in  order,  before  Henry,  a  company  of 
leaden  dragoons.  But  v.hat  comfort  was  this  to  the 
poor  children  ?  they  could  fee  nothing  of  them ;  and 
when  they  attempted  to  grafp  them,  the  feftcred  pim- 

■  pies  on  their  hands  gave  them  fo  much  pain,  that  - 

•  they  immediately  threw  them  all  down,  and  began 
to  weep.    But  James  fpoke  very  kindly  to  them,  and 

^  faid,  that  they  Ihould  try  to  be  quiet,  and  then  they 
^  would  foon  be  well;  and  that  he  would  give  the  little 
prefents  into  their  father's  carej  and  how  great 


i8o 


ELEMENTS  OF 


would  be  their  joy,  when  they  left  their  beds  and 
found  theie  pretty  things. 

Afterwards  they  went  to  George ;  he  was  more 
cheerfiil,  becaufe  he  was  growing  well;  and  he 
laughed  outright  when  James  gave  him  a  whole  hunt, 
liuntfmen  and  dogs,  fiags,  boars  and  foxes,  all  form- 
ed in  leati ;  and  Mary  fpread  before  him  foine  pretty 
pidiires  which  Ihe  had  brought.  They  foon  got 
acquainted  with  each  other,  and  chatted  very  fa- 
miliarly. ! 

Dear  play -fellows,  faid  George,  I  never  thought 
before  how  good  it  is  of  parents  to  be  fo  anxious 
about  tiieir  children.  See  now  how  much  my  moiher^ 
endures  with  that  little  infant.  As  often  as  it  lucks,^ 
it  gi\'e3  her  as  much  pain  as  if  a  knife  were  lluck  in. 
her  breaft;  and  iUli  flie  does  not  fend  it  away.  Slje: 
puts  it  again  to  the  breaft,  bears  all  the  pain,  radier 
than  tile  poor  infant  ihould  feel  hunger.  Ah  !  if  iiie 
was  to  forfake  it,  it  v/ould  foon  die.  She  wafnes  it 
every  morning,  and  puts  clean  clothes  on  it  feveral 
times  in  the  day  ;  and,  when  Ihe  dreffes  it,  ihe 
touches  it  lo  tenderly,  and  holds  its  head  againfl  her 
breaif,  watching  that  nothing  injures  its  weak  limbs. 
At  night  llie  fcarcely  fleeps  two  hours,  becaufe  the 
child  often  cries,  and  feems  always  to  look  to  her  for 
help.  We  have  all  been  fuch  little  creatures,  and 
given  our  good  parents  as  much  trouble.' 

And  my  good  father ;  you  cannot  think  how 
dearly  he  loves  us ;  fmce  we  have  been  lick,  he  has 
not  left  our  beds.  The  'Squire  has  twdce  invited  hini 
^o  fupper ;  but  he  always  refufed,  becaufe  he  would 
not  leave  us.  How  many  times  has  he  got  out  of  bed 
in  the  cold  ;  how  many  nice  bits  has  he  put  into  my 
mouth  ;  and  how  many  fpoonfuls  of  drink  has  he  given 
jne  v/ith  his  own  hand,  w  hich  cooled  my  poor  heart» 
Every  day  he  fends  to  the  Doctor's  for  fomething^ 
which  cofcs  him  money  ;  but  he  fays  he  does  not  mind 
any  expence,  if  he  coidd  but  fee  us  in  health  once 
more.  I  love  my  dear  parents  ;  I  ought  to  love  them. 
I  will  do  more  j  I  will  try  to  be  good,  that  they  may 


MORALITY. 


^nd  pleafure  la  me.  IVhat  vjicked  children  mu/I  they 
he  ivho  can  vex  their  parents  1  Whilit  he  w  as  fpeaking 
in  this  manner,  Mary  and  James  were  thhiking  of 
then- parents ;  and  both  determined  that  they  would 
follow  the  example  of  George.  Mary  recollccled, 
with  fmcere  i  egret,  that  Ihe  had  fometimes  vexed  i 
hers ;  and  James  was  aflianied  of  himfelf  that  he  had 
not  before  reflected  how  miich  trouble  and  care  he  had 
already  given  his.  Both  w  ere,  from  this  rime,  mor« 
attentive  to  their  condud  ;  and  did  every  thing,  wheii 
they  v/ere  with  their  parents,  to  pleafe  them  ;  ami 
were  as  careful  when  they  vvere  ahfent  to  obey  their 
40ramand&,  as  when  they  were  under  their  eye. 


CHAPTER,  XXXVI. 


TH  E  day  beginning  to  clofe,  the  company  tool: 
leave  of  the  fuifering  family,  wifhed  them  a  quiet 
night ;  and  that  after  having  overcome  fo  much  for- 
row,  they  might  again  feel  joy. 

They  now  returned  to  the  inn,  and  would  have  en- 
tered the  firil  room  they  came  to  ;  but  the  hoftefs  ran 
up  to  them,  faying,  pray  do  not  go  in  there ;  it  is  fo 
near  the  kitchen,  where  fome  travellers  are  fmoaking 
and  drinking,  that  I  fear  you  will  find  the  nolfe  very 
dilagreeable.  If  you  w  ifu  to  be  at  your  eafe,  you  had 
better  come  into  this  little  parlour  where  my  children 
fit ;  you  will  find  a  good  fire  there,  and  I  will  go  and 
make  the  fire  burn  above  llairs,  for  we  did  not  expert 
you  lo  foon.  They  followed  her,  and  found  ever^ 
thing  in  good  order. — They  did  not  fee,  indeed,  great 
glail'es,  pidures,  or  any  other  kind  of  coftly  furniture  ; 
but  every  thing  befpoke  the  indultry  of  thefe  good 
people.  The  wall  was  hung  with  Ikeins  of  yarn, 
jpindles  ready  to  be  realed,  and  ftockings  with  knittino;- 
needles  in  them.  There  lloo  .  a  w  heel,  here  winders  ; 
and  on  a  little  ihelf  were  fome  ufeful  books.    A  girl  of 


122 


ELEMENTS 


fixteea,  and  another  of  fourteen,  were  cutting  bread, 
and  piULino  Uttle  pats  of  butter  on  a  plate,  for  the  flip- 
per of  the  family  iliat  now  entered.  A  thh'd  girl  was 
fpinning,  and  a  boy  fat  writing  at  a  table. 

This  fight  afforded  Mrs.  Jones  great  pleafure.  I 
find,  faid  Ihe,  that  there  are  Ifili  very  induftrious  peo- 
ple^ in  the  world.  Vv^hen  we  have  only  a  defire  to 
work,  anfwered  the  holtefs,  we  lhall  always  find  fonie- 
thing  to  do  ;  and  there  is  no  pleafure  like  employment. 
Befiues,  if  my  children  had  not  always  fufficient  work 
to  do,  they  would  Hand  Itaring  in  the  public  room, 
Avhere  they  could  neither  fee  nor  hear  any  thing  good. 
But,  excufe  me,  at  this  hour  I  have  a  gr^it  deal  to  do 
In  the  kitchen. 

She  went  oat,  and  the  hod  entered,  a  cheerful 
healthy-looking  man,  with  honelly  fparkling  in  his 
eyes.  He  had  in  his  arms  his  youngeft  child;  and,  ap- 
proaching his  little  guells,  Ihook  them  cordially  vvith 
his  right  hand;  which  labour  had  fo  hardened,  that  it 
felt  like  leather.  To-day,  faid  he,  fmill'Tg,  I  am 
nurfe.  iMy  wife,  and  all  my  people,  have  cl;e :r  hn.:;:s 
fo  tuU  of  work,  that  they  could  not  hold  the  pv: or  ]itt:e 
bantling,  fo  I  mull  take  care  of  it.  But  I  do  nor  com- 
plain, I  have  Hill  a  hand  free  and  re<?tdy  to  obey  your 
orders.  We  muft  all  help  one  another,  if  we  wifh  to 
live  happily  together.  At  this  inftant  he  vvas  called, 
and  the  company  w^ere  left  alone  with  the  children. 

Mrs.  Jones  feated  herfelf  by  the  talleil  of  the  girls, 
and  aftced  if  Ihe  was  the  holt's  e\dd\  daughter  ?  1  am 
not  his  daughter,  anfweredthe  fmiling  girl,  I  am  only 
his  niece,  my  mother  was  his  fdfer.  But  I  have  no 
parents,  they  are  both  dead ;  and  hfe  has  brought  me 
lip  ever  fince  my  iixth  year.  But  I  fuppofe  he  is  paid 
for  yom'  board,  faid  Mrs.  Jones.  I  have,  anfwered 
ihe,  not  a  penny  to  give  him  ;  for  my  parents  left  no- 
thing behind  them.  But  he  is  a  very  good  man,  he 
treats  me  like  his  own  children  ;  I  drefs  like  them, 
and  he  never  biivs  a  new  thing  for  them,  without  re- 
membering me  ;  hehad  me  taught  to  few,knit,a  nd  fpin  : 
^lld  even  paid  the  fchoolmafter  for  teaching  rne  to  wriij 


MORALITY. 


i  gTid  cypher.    He  has  put  my  brother  'prentice  to  a  tay- 
'  lor,  and  provides  every  thing  for  him.    You  are,  in- 
deed, laid  Mrs.  Jones,  -fallen  into  a  good  man's  hands. 
Yes,  thatistrr.e  enou-^h,  continued  the  girl;  but  the 
good  that  he  has  done  for  us  poor  niotheriefs  children 
is  not  ail ;  If  I  were  to  relate  what  l;e  doco  for  other 
people,  I  lliould  not  iiniih  before  night.    When  a 
poor  traveller  comes  to  feek  for  a  lodging,  he  takes 
1  him  in,  and.  the  next  morning  will  not  rake  any  thing 
I  for  his  bed  ;  na^?,  fometimes  he  will  give  him  foniething 
to  help  him  on  his  way. 

Yellerday  evening  came  a  poor  foldier's  widow^  here 
with  her  three  children  ;  her  hulband  had  not  long 
I  been  dead.  If  you  will  believe  me,  he  had  a  good  fire 
lighted  for  her  in  the  room  in  which  yon  are  going  to 
iiz ;  and  he  treated  her  as  he  did  the  other  guel\s,  who 
were  gentlefolks.  The  poor  vvoman  would  fcarceiy 
eat  of  the  good  fupper  he  provided  ;  and  laid  that  ihe 
had  not  above  a  fhilling  in  her  pocket.  Never  mind 
that,  faid  he  do  yoj  and  your  children  only  eat  your 
fupper  with  a  good  appetite.  In  the  morning  bur  boy 
was  to  carry  fome  corn  to  market  ;  but  I  could  noc 
guefs  why  he  got  fo  often  in  and  oat  of  the  car:.  A"» 
lait  I  found  out  that  he  hiid  been  making  a  feat  of  dry 
ftraw  for  the  woihan  and  her  cliiidren ;  and  only  put 
two  facks  in  to  lie  at  their  feet.  He  not  only  took  no- 
thing from  her,  but  aiked  my  aunt  to  look  for  ibine 
old  clothes,  which  he  gave  to  the  woman  for  her  chil- 
dren,helped  them  into  the  care,  and  pif  they  fee  for  the 
city.  Ifhall  never,  during  my  life,- f^'>rt,ei  how  the 
W'oaiaa  called  out  a  hundred  times  from  the  cart  that 
God  would  return  it  to  him. 

It  gives  me  pleafure  to  hear  all  this,  faid  Mrs.  Jones 
but  r  have  heard  him  accufed  of  enticing  all  the  j^rui- 
ers  to  his  houfe  ;  yet  I  can  fcarcely  believe  it., 

^  There  is  fomcihing  in  ic,  however,  anfwered  the 
girl ;  when  any  one  ileeps  here  once,  they  wilibe  fure 
to  come  agaiii,  if  they  travel  this  way  :  nay,  I  have 
know  foQie  travellers  go  on  aa  hour  cr  two  after  ic 
gro%'3  d: -/k,  -J  reiUierc.    But  there  ii-nodiin-  svvom 


ELEMENTS  OF 


in  all  this,  he  is  fo  civil  to  every  body.  He  alwayt 
takes  care  that  the  bread,  beer  and  meat,  are  good; 
and  when  he  is  to  be  paid,  he  does  not  overcharge  any- 
body. Is  it  to  be  Vv'ondered  at  that  he  pleafes  peo- 
ple ? 

JMr.  Jones  heard,  with  aftoniinment,  this  girl's  dif- 
conrfe  ;  who,  witii  the  greatelt  limplicity,  in  a  fe\f 
jjniiLucs,  related  of  a  man,  in  a  mean  condition,  irjorc 
^  oou  than  many  rich  men  ha\'e  done  in  the  whole 
cor.rfe  of  their  lives.  He  could  not  any  longer  remain 
iilcnt ;  but  faid  to  his  family, — 0  dear  children  fee  hoiM 
7iiuch  good  a  Jingle  gco<\  vian  can  do  !  His  wife,  four  of 
his  own  children,  and  t-,vo  W'hcni  he  has  adopced — fe- 
\'en  perfons  have  to  thank  him  for  their  whole  comfort 
and  joy.  How  miferable  would  they  be  if  he  was  as 
carelels  as  the  angry  man  w  e  fav/  this  morning.  How 
many  poor  will  he  have  been  a  comfort  to — What  a 
number  of  fatigued  and  way-worn  travellers  will,  in 
his  houfe,  fpeiid  a  comfortable  evening,  and  gather 
new  flreno;th.  If  now,  a  man  hf  a  lituation  reckoned 
mean  can  do  fo  much  good  to  others,  how  much  more 
ihould  be  expected  from  one  in  an  elevated  rank  r 

WhiHi  he  was  fpeaking,  the  honed  Inkecper  enter- 
ed, and  alked  if  they  would  pleafe  to  go  up  Itairs,  fay- 
ing, the  room  is  warm,  and  the  fupper  on  the  table. 

The  whole  company  ftood  up,  and  looked  at  him 
with  iilent  refpeft,  as  if  a  nobleman  had  entered.  Mary 
quickly  hung  on  his  arm,  and  James  would  gladly  have 
caught  the  other^  if  the  uveet  babe  had  not  already 
been  enlbided  in  it;  he  therefore  followed,  holding 
Mr.  Jones'  hand. 

ivlrs.  Jones  was  iafl ;  and  when  llie  came  to  the 
room  door,  Ihe  ti-rned  back,  faying,  Ihe  lliould  foLm 
come  to  them.  Scarcely  v.'as  the  door  fhut,  when  ihe 
went  towards  the  iridnlh-ious  little  people,  tenderly 
cmlraclng  them  cue  aUcr  the  other  ;  and  faid,  good 
children,  follow  the  example  of  your  firh::r  and  micle. 
and  I  promile  yor,  a!l  will'  do  well.  She  then  joinec 
her  faixil  v  in  the  otlitr  roo  n  . 

It  was  fmali  and  low,  vv-'idi  little  doors  and  vnti: 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


185 


doNVs,  but  ftili  they  were  all  pleafed  with  k.  The 
wainllot  table  was  covered  with  a  clean  cloth,  antl 
plates  and  dhhes,  which  looked  equally  neat ;  it  is 
true,  the  Ipoons  were  not  lllver,  nor  the  knives  very 
handfome  ;  but  every  thing  was  well  drelled,  and  the 
honeft  hoft  who  chatted  with  them,  and  the  ruddy 
girl  who  waited,  pleafed  them  all.  When  they  wenu 
to  reil  they  found  cle::a  beds  ;  and,  in  the  morning,  a 
good  breakfait. 

Aucr  this  cheerful  repai'^,  Mr.  Jones  went  himfelf, 
once  more,  to  fee  the  Ci  rate,  and  to  enquire  how  he 
anil  his  faafily  found  themfeives.  He  ioon  came  back, 
an<{  brouo-ht  the  agreeable  news  that  tliey  had  all  flept: 
w-ell  ;  and  that  he  found  the  lick  much  better  than 
they  were  the  evening  before  ;  at  tJie  fame  time  he  ad- 
ded that  the  Curate,  with  his  wife  and  children,  had 
promifed  to  vifit  them  as  foon  as  they  were  vveil. 

Nicholas  was  now  told  to  harnefs  his  horfes,  and  the 
holi  was  delired  to  bring  in  his  bill.  He  foon  broughc 
it  ;  and  it  was  fo  reafonable,  that  Mr.  Jones  could  iioc 
imagine  hovv"  the  Innkeeper,  without  injuring  himfelf, 
couid  have  provided  them  with  fuch  good  things  at  fo 
theap  a  rate.  He  Ihook  his  head,  and  faid,  friend, 
there  mi.il  be  foine  millake  in  the  reckoning.  1  be- 
lieve not,  faid  the  hoil,  a  little  afioniihed,  taking  the 
bhl  to  look  over  it  again;  however^  Mr.  Jones  did  noc 
vvaitforit,  bi5t  preiling  fomething  into  his  hand,  tliere 
is  the  amount  or  the  reckoning.  He  then,  turning  to 
hh  wife  and  children^  defired  them  to  be  quick  and  get 
into  the  coa':h.  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Sir.^  cried 
the  holt ;  why,  heaven  help  me,  you  have  given  me 
t ten  guineas. !.  Mr.  Jones,  turning  half  round,  fmiled 
on  him,,  and  faid,  if  there  is  more  than  your  due,  yon 
kno  w. how  to  ufe  ir  ;  when  a  poor  foldier's  wife  and  her 
children  come  to  lodge  with  you  ;  when  an  orphan 
w  ants  clothing,  or  a  'prentice-fee. 

The  hoft  would  ftiil  have  railed  iome  difficulties, 
but  Mr.  Jones  was  fo  full  of  refpeCl  for  this  good  man, 
that  he  liiook  him  heartily  by  the  hand,  fprang  into 
%Lq  coach^  and  3v,  av  it  roiled;  the-children  Itiil  crying 

■    o  3 


ELExMENTS  OF 


out,  c-ooiroye  !  good  bye!  Mr.  HoR ;  and  when  he 
(o  del  no  longer  hear  them,  they  (hii  fondly  fnook  their 
heads  and  hiuids  at  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


^  |~^'  H  E  horfes  mwd  have  f>ired  as  well  at  the  inn  as? 

the  relt  of  the  party.  They  fnorted  the  frellt 
a^r  ;  antl  v^  ere  i'o  iively  tlurctlie  coachman  could  icarce- 
ly  h' Id  them  in.  They  v,  ent  on  at  fuch  a  rate  th^u 
they  were  all  pleafed  with  the  o.ifick  motion.  They 
to  :tinued  this  pace  for  above  hah'  an  hoiir,  when  the 
<  oachman  was  obliged  to  halt,  becaufe  the  road  ran 
lip  a  hill  ;  and  Mr.  Jones  wifiied  to  get  out,  that  he 
might  have,  r.  more  extenhve  view  of  the  beautiful 
couniTy  v,h;;.h  the  hill  commanded.  When  they  had 
gained  chj  ridrig  groLnd,  lie  ilepped  in  again,  and  the 
travellers ',.  c:.t  on  as  quick  as  before.  They  faw  al- 
ready, afar  o:f,  ihe  ileeples  of  the  city  ;  but  their  dif- 
ranee  made  them  apr.ear  to  Mary  fo  fniall,  that  flie 
could  fcarcely  beheve  that  they  Vvcre  the  great  ftee- 
ple$  of  tiie  city.  Bat  Mr.  Jones  allured  her  that  Hie 
v/onld  fee  them  grow  hirger  and  larger  as  fhe  advanced  ; 
and  tfiey  W'.)u!d  i'c^a  }ia\'e  feen  them  near  enough  to 
j  .ulge  of  their  trne  height;  if  a  frefn  accident  had  not 
regarded  their  progrefs. 

Sse^me  pare  of  the  iiarnefs  gave  way,  and  Nicholas 
Tvas  near  half  an  hour  before  he  could  get  it  in  order 
aa;ahi.  During  that  time  Mr.  Jones  walked  with  his 
children  by  the  he'ds,  and  made  them  obferve  the 
beautiful  vercfue  of  the  riiing  corn,  which  decked  the 
£dds,  and  had  attained  fuiiicient  llrengLh  to  endure 
the  rigour  of  the  approaching  winter.  As  they  were 
jifpping  into  the  carriage  again,  they  heard,  at  a  dift- 
arice,  a  voice  cry,  ilop,  itop  I  they  tUirned  round  and 
favv'  a  girl  running  tovv  ards  them,  Vv'ho  made  ligns,  and 
fricvefi  ihem  fomething  v^diicli  llie  he^d  iu  her  band. 


MORALITY.  187 

Mr.  Jones  went  to  meet  her,  llie  came  r.p  to  him  quite 
or. t  of  breath,  v/ith  a  purfe  in  her  hand,  .and  I'aid, 
have  you  no:  loit  this,  Sir  ?  I  law  you  get  into  the 
coach,  and  tbimd  it  yonder,  where  you  were  v.  alking- 
juitnow.  Mr.  Jones  telt  for  his  piirfe,  and  perceived 
indeed  that  he  had  loft  it.  There  were  ten  guineas  in, 
it,  and  a  great  deal  of  iilver,  He  wondered  at  the 
honefly  of  the  girl,  whom,  by  her  drefs,  he  fuppofed 
to  be  v^ery  poor.  He  ftroked  her  cheeks,  alked  who 
were  her  parents  ?  whether  llie  had  any  brothers  and 
filters  ?and  u  liar  Ike  had  to  do  in  the  fields  ? 

I  have  only  an  old  mother,  replied  the  girl,  and 
file  is  very  poor.  For  above  a  year  fhe  has  been  tor- 
mented by  the  rheunuuifin,  and  has  not  been  able  to 
do  any  v/ork.  We  have  nothing  to  hve  on,  but 
wliat  I  earn  by  fpinning.  I  came  out  now  to  feek  for 
wood,  that  I  might  make  her  a  httle  broth;  and  I 
come  every  day  to  gather  a  few  flicks  together,  that 
we  may  ha\'e  ib.iiething  in  the  winter  tokeep  ourfelves 
warm  v.'irh. 

And  v,'hy  then,  a  Heed  Mr,  Jones,  did  you  not  keep 
this  money  r  you  might  have  maintcuned  your  poor  mo«. 
ther  a  long  tirue  with  it. 

God  keep  ine,  eKclaimed  the  girl,  from  doing 
fuch  a  thiug  I  I  knew  very  well  that  the  money  be- 
longed to  you  :  and  if  I  had  kept  it,  it  would  have  been 
juft  the  fame  as  if  I  had  itolen  it.  I  ihould  have  been 
finely  received  by  my  mother,  if  I  had  carried  her 
heaps  of  money  gotten  in  this  way. 

Tvlr.  Jones  then  put  his  hand  into  his  purfe,  proba- 
'  bly  to  leek  for  a  guinea  ;  but  his  wife  held  it,  and  faid, 
will  yo'-  permit  me  to  reward  this  good  girl  ?  her 
hoiztjiy  has  g'iiued  my  entire  confidence.  If  you  will 
allo  w  Die,  i  v/ii]  take  her  home  with  me,  and  teach 
her  every  kind  of  houlhold  labour  ;  in  time  fhe  may 
become  my  cook,  and  take  care  of  my  f\ore-room  ;  I 
perceive  that  I  can  truil:  thishoneft  girl,-  and  I  have 
long  wiihedfor  Inch  a  uerfon  in  nry  houfe.  She  ob- 
tained, as  may  eafily  be  fuppofed,  her  hufoand's  con- 
fentj  and  allved  the  girl  whether  fhe  \vas  willing  to 


i88  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 

come  and  live  with  her  ?  proniifed  her  that  (he   Ihoiilcl  ^ 
bine  enough  to  eat  and  drink,  and  good  clothes;  and 
Ihe  liiould  be  treated,  in  every  refpetSt,  vefy  kindJy. 
Thegiri,  aiioniihed  at  th;s  oifer,  wept,  ciaiped  her 
hands,  and  laid,  all,  kind  Madam  !  1  would  gladly 
go  with  yoa  ;  bot  v.hat  would  become  of  niy  poor 
old  niotlier  ?  if  1  left  her  llie  would  die  of  hunger.  I 
will  take  care  of  that,  faid  Tvlr.  Jones;  I   will  have 
her  carried  to  a  ho-afe,  where  ihe  will  find  a  warm 
room,  and  enoi-gh  to  eat  and  drink.    Take  for  the  t' 
prefent  this  money,  anci  buy  fonie  meat  to  make  brotli 
for  your  mother  ;  and  afk  her  whether  Ihe   will  let  i 
you  live  witii  us,  and  accept  of  the  provifion  we  offer 
her.    Next  week  I  will  fend  for  you  both;  tell  me 
exacily  v,  iierc  you  live. 

The  girl  looked  at  what  Mr.  Jones  had  given  her,  ^ 
the  momeu-t  (he  quited  them.  Good  gracious  !  cried 
(lie,  how  mr.ch  money  !  half  a  guinea,  a  crown,  and 
feveral  fh.illings.  She  counted  it  over  and  over  again  ; 
Ihe  had  never  in  licr  life  had  half  ib  much.  She  ran  as 
quickly  as  Ihe  poiiihly  cor-ld  to  ihew  it  to  her  motlier, 
faying  to  herfelf,  all  the  vvay  {he  went,  yes,  this  is 
well  ;  it  was  wcW  I  did  not  keep  the  money.  How 
my  poor  nioiher  will  be  pleafed  wiien  I  bring  her  all 
this. 

She  now  came  to  tiie  houfe,  laid  the  money  ontlie 
table,  and  laicL  there  uiotber,  there  is  a  heap  of  mo- 
ney, which  is  all  my  own;  and  I  aui  now  going  to 
make  yon  fbmc  ni.:e  i:roth.  A  great  Lord  gave  it  to 
me  ;  ii^IoM  1  fiiil  of  gold.  1  really  believe  there 

was  a  h'.Liti'.T.'  r;  '  '-:.s  in  it;  I  found  it,  and  he  gave 
Kie  rbit  baci! ■  '  y  out  of  ic  for  ujy  honelW.  He 

had      J-i  id'.:  ■  •    ;.-;!us],  good-natured  lady,  I  can- 


MORALITY. 


ling  tears  of  joy)  that  God  would  blefs  thofe  charitable 
people. 

The  next  week  a  man  came  -for  them.  The  woman 
was  placed  in  a  comfortable  aims-honfe,  v^here  llie 
was  to  be  maintained  all  her  Ufe.  Mr.  Jones  brought 
lip  the  lioneit  girl,  who  foon  became  an  excel  lent 
cook,  manied  fome  years  after  an  honeft  workui^ 
man,  ant]  led  a  very  contented  life.  Mr.  Jone*  and 
family  now  approached  the  city  ;  and  Mary  faw  that 
the  fpire«  which  Ihe  had  feen  at  a  diftance,  were  in* 
deed  Ifeeples  ;  and  fhe  was  not  a  httie  furprized  at  it. 
They  now  fpoke  of  nothing  but  Charles  and  his 
tooth-ache  ;  and  Mrs.  Jones  felt  her  heart  bea:  wheit 
flie  thonoht  on  '  the  fad  ilate  in  which  they  fliould 
)robably  find  him.  But  how  great  was  hei'  joy  when 
they  came  to  the  houfe  and  faw  Charles  hirafelf,  full 
of  health  and  fpirits,  fpringing  out  to  meet  them.  Sh« 
and  his  father  embraced  him,  and  Mary  and  James 
did  the  fame.  As  foon  as  Mr.  Jones  heard  that  tha 
Jew  Ephraia:!  had  cured  him  of  his  tooth-ache,  he  be- 
came dear  to  him  ;  and  he  was  not  How  m  teftifying^ 
his  gratitude. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


1\  /T  R.  JONES*  principle  merchandize  coniiiied  of 
-LVa.  woollen  cloihs  and  ftufts,  for  which  purpofe  he 
had  ellabliihed  a  manufactory,  and  conilantly  employ- 
ed a  ni-mber  of  woinen  and  children  to  fpin  the  wool, 
whofe  labours  kept  many  looms  in  motion  to  weave 
it  into  cloth.  By  thofe  employments  he  maintained 
above  three  hundred  people. 

The  day  of  his  return  was  Saturday,  when  all  the 
men,  women  and  children  who  worked  for  him,  al- 
ways came  to  receive  the  money  which  they  had 
earned  during  the  week.  Ac  (ix  o'clock  the  honfe 
refembied  a  fair,  there  was  iuch  a  concourse  of  peoale. 


I90  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


Mr.  Jones  ufcd  to  feat  hiuifelf  at  a  table,  on  which 
lay  two  or  three  bags  of  money,  and  callino-  them  one'  "'^ 
after  the  other,  made  eacli  of  them  liiew  his  account'  f 
which  he  examined,  and  paid  iheiii  whiat  they  hacj 
earned.    The  people  who  received  the  money  be- 
haved very  differently,  fome  v/ent  o^it  with  an  air^  of  I  f 
ftupified   indifference,  others    inormured,  and  faid| 
it  was  much  too  little,  and  that  they  could  not  fiibfifl 
on  it ;  but  many  received  th:eir  ^va'^^,es  with  a  cheerfuj 
countenance,  thanked  Mr.  Jones,  aiui  laid,  that  they 
would  drink  his  health  to-raorrow. 

A  certain  v/eaver  attracted  Mr.  Jones'  attention  ; 
he  was  one  of  the  lirit  v.'ho  came  into  the  room,  yet 
Itood  ftili  without  havino;  approached  to  receive  his- 
wages.  He  placed  hi infeli"  near  Mr.  Jones,  with  the 
fore  finger  of  his  riglit  harid  relVnr?^  avrainft  his  nofe^ 
and  obferved,  very  thoiij^h  *:fuliy ,  ho  w  lAr.  Jones  told 
out  his  money.  iSoinctimes  he  imiled,  and  Ibmetimes 
ihook  his  head.  At  lali  Mr.  Jones  alked  him  what  he  . 
was  thinking  of  ?  and  if  he  did  not  valli  for  his  wages  ^ 
I  will  wait  for  ii,  anfwercd  he,  if  you  will  contuiue' 
to  reckon  with  the  people.  It  rejoices  me  to  fee  that:' 
you  have  fo  much  money  to  pay,  and  I  think  how 
happy  ii  that  there  are  rich  mc:?i  in  the  ^Mdrla.  Hov/ 
many  people  do  you  uov/ give  bread  to  for  the  whole 
week,  and  many  a  bit  of  roalt  meat  for  a  Sunday.  I 
really  knov/  not  how  all  tiie  people  in  the  world' 
would  live,  if  tliere  were  not  rich  nien  to  fet  them  to 
work.  They  could  not  buy  wool,  and  it  fometimes' 
theygotafev/  p?nce,  and  could  keep  life  and  foul  toge- 
ther while  the)'  fpun  it^  or  made  itinto  cloth,  theynvould 
lofe  half  their  time  in  gonig  abo^t  tofell  it,  and  at  laft, 
perhaps,  be  obliged  to  let  fome  hard-hearted  man  have 
it;  who,  taking  advantage  of  their  poverty,  would 
jr-Ai  give  them  enough  to  buy  thebread  their  chil- 
Idren  might  be  crying  for.  But  now  they  want  no- 
thing, neither  woolnor  work,  all  the  week;  andarefiu-e 
of  receiving  their  vv^ages,  when  Saturday  night  comes. 

Mr,  Jones  looked  at  him  with  furprife,  and  th.e 
weaver,  who  obferved  that  his  dKcouie  pleafed  him, 
continued—  There  are  indeed  many 


MORALITY. 


ich  tlieir  money,  and  fee  with  an  envious  eye  that 
aey  have  iuch  baiitiful  houfes,  fuch  fine  clothe^^nd 
cep  fiich  good  tables.  But  A  always  fcold  them,  and 
ay,  you  are  very  foclil']!  people,  who  cannot  fee  a 
itfurcher  than  yoiirnofe.  The  rich  cannot  eat  their 
;old,  and  if  they  build  bautiful  houfes,  lay  out  fine 
ardens,  buy  grand  cloches,  and  fare  better  than  we 
an,  why,  they  mail  always  give  money  for  what 
hey  get,  and  then  it  goes  through  a  number  of  hands* 
The  butcher,  the  baker,  the  carpenter,  the  mafon, 
|he  fmich,  the  farrier,  the  glazier,  the  (hoe-maker, 
nd  all  the  reil  of  us,  profit  by  them  ;  or  how  would 
hefe  people  live,  if  there  were  no  men  who  had  mo- 
ley  to  fpend?  1  know,  indeed,  that  nobody  gains  a 
arching  from  fome  of  the  rich,  by  their  good-will  ; 
hey  are  always  fcraping  more  and  more  money  toge- 
her,  only  to  hoard  it  up.  But  happily  there  are  not 
nany  fuch  in  the  world.  Mr.  Jones  adnfired  this  ra- 
ional  man's  difcourfe,  paid  him  his  wages,  and  advif- 
id  him  always  to  try  and  think  in  this  manner ;  for 
uch  a  contented  mind  would  make  his  little  meal  tafle 
)ettcr  than  the  dainties  of  the  hard-hearted  rich,  anal 
le  would  lead  a  much  happier  life  than  tliofe  who  con- 
inually  viewed,  with  an  envious  eye,  the  good  for- 
:une  of  their  fuperiors. 

Scarcely  was  this  weaver  gone  out  of  the  room  than 
mother  drew  near,  \vho  whifped  Mr.  Jones  in  the 
i^ar,  that  the  man,  Vv'ho  had  jult  left  him,  was  a  lharp 
land  I  How  fo?  allied  Mr.  Jones.  He  is  a  choice 
inave,  anfweredhe;  if  you  knew  how  he  has  alrea- 
dy deceived  you,  you  would  certainly  not  give  him  a 
[liuttle-full  more  work.  Mr.  Jones  expreffed  his  fur- 
:3rize  at  this  information,  and  defired  him  to  wait  till 
.le  had  paid  all  the  workmeA,  when  he  would  fpeak 
with  him  more  fully  about  the  matter. 

In  the  courfe  of  half  an  'hour,  Mr.  Jones  found 
himfelf  alone  with  the  weaver.  Now,  honeft  man, 
alked  he,  what  more  have  you  to  fay  to  me  ?  I  only 
fay  this  ,  that  Mailer  Jackfon,  who  has  been  talking 
fo  finely  to  you^  is  a  knave.    I  do  not  like  to  fpeak 


E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S  OF 


ill  of  any  body,  ftiii  what  is  true  ought  to  be  told. 
And  it  is  not  proper  th:it  I  Ihould  lee  fbch  a  good  inaf. 
ter  cheated,  without  telling  him  of  it,  Kis  wife  fella 
one  piece  of  (hiff  after  another,  which  her  hufoand  has 
ipun  from  the  wool  that  he  cheats  you  of,  I  fuppofe. 
Tor  where  elfe  could  it  come  from  ?  He  is  always  buy- 
ing new  clothes.  Laft  week  he  had  a  new  coat  made; 
I  cannot  do  thus,  yet  I  neyer  lit  with  my  hands  a- 
crofs. 

Mr.  Jones  looked  at  this  man  with  a  penetrating 
eye,  and  aflced  with  a  firm  tone,  is  all  this  true  ?  He 
caft  his  eyes  down  and  anfwered,  to  be  fure  it  is  true^ 
if  I  had  not  been  fure  of  it  I  lliould  not  have  faid  it. 
And  to  whom  did  his  wife  fell  the  ftuff?  continued 
Mr.  Jones.  That  I  cannot  exactly  tell,  replied  the 
weaver  ;  but  you  may  be  perfectly  fatished  it  is  fo,  or 
I  Ihould  not  have  told  you.  i  vvould  not  for  all  the 
world  tell  you  an  untruth. 

Mr.  Jones  let  him  go,  and  prom.ifed  that  he  would 
look  carefully  into  the  affair;  and  he  really  did  lift  the 
biifmefs  thoroughly.  He  mentioned  to  his  wife  what 
this  man  had  faid  of  Jackfon  ;  and,  from  that  hour, 
ihe  took  various  methods  to  difcover  the  truth. 

She  weighed  the  wool  and  the  yarn,  and  meafurcd 
the  fluff  with  the  fame  exaclnefs  ;  comparing  his  work 
with  that  of  the  other  journeymen.  After  fiie  had 
watched  thus  carefully,  a  whole  month,  flie  came  to 
her  hufband,  and  faid,  would  you  think  it,  that  of  all  our 
jotu'neymen  the  moft  honert  is  Jackfon  ?  I  have  now 
for  a  fufficient  length  of  time  obferved  his  v/ork, 
weighed,  meafured  and  compared  it  with  what  has 
been  done  by  the  red  of  the  peeple  we  employ,  and 
found  that  his  was  always  wove  in  the  belt  manner, 
the  quantity  equal,  and  often  more  than  was  bro- 
light  home  by  the  others,  who  had  the  fame  materials 
given  to  them.  On  the  contrary,  the  man  who  flander- 
ed  him  is  a  rogue ;  his  ftufF  always  wants  a  yard  or 
two,  and  I  have  found  out  the  place  where,  the  day 
before  yellerday,  he  certainly  fold  a  dozen  yards.  I 
am  glad  you  have  ma4e  this  difcovery,  faid  Mr. 
Jones. 


MORALITY. 


»93 


This  bad  man  was  Toon  called,  told  of  his  wicked- 
nefs,  and  his  work  taken  from  him. 

Jackfon  was  then  fent  for,  and  Mr.  Jones  faid  to 
him,  Friend,  you  have  been  a  common  journeyman 
long  enough,  you  delerve  a  more  profitable  employ- 
ment, I  will  make  you  overleer  of  my  manufadory, 
you  will  have  lefs  work  to  do,  and  will  gain  more 
money.  Be  but  as  faithful  an  overleer  to  me  as  you 
have  been  a  weaver,  and  I  lhall  be  content. 

The  joy  this  unexped:ed  offer  gave  the  honeft  man 
may  ealily  be  fuppofed.  He  held  up  his  hands,  and 
faid  ,  is  it  polhble  I  how  is  all  this  come  about  ?  You 
may  thank  Ned  Sly  for  it,  faid  Mr.  Jones. 

Marter  Sly,  Mafter  Sly,  who  would  have  thought 
it?  faid  Jackfon;  I  always  fuppofed  that  man  owed  me 
a  grudge;  but  now  I  fee  I  wronged  him.  You  have 
not  wronged  him,  continued  Mr.  Jones  ;  Sly  is  t 
wicked  man  ,  he  complained  to  me  of  you,  as^if  you 
were  a  cheat,  and  kept  back  part  of  the  yarn  I  gave 
you  to  weave.  I  did  not  know  enough  of  you,  for 
bow  can  I  know  all  the  people  who  work  for  me?  But 
from  that  time  I  have  been  I'ery  attentive:  I  have 
carefully  meafured  and  weighed  all  that  you  ha\-e 
done,  and  difcovered  that  you  were  the  moi\  honert 
and  indurtrious  of  all  my  journeymen.  Tears  of  joy 
rtarted  into  Jackfon's  eyes,  he  thankfully  prefTed  Mr. 
Jones'  hand,  and  faid,  I  fee  now  come  to  pafs  what 
my  poor  dead  father  continually  ufed  to  fay  to  me. 
''Jack,  al-ways  flick  to  honeJJy^  and  th^n your  mqft  fpite- 
^ul  enemies  77iay  contribute^  without  thinking  of  it^  t9 
vour  happinefs.^^ 

He  returned  to  his  houfe,  and  carried  this  news  to 
iis  wife  and  children.  It  is  eafy  to  fuppofe  what  joy 
le  fpread  amongit  them. 


R 


194 


ELEMENTS  OF 


CHAPTER  XXXIX, 

TH  I  S  act  of  juftlce  afTorded  Mr.  Jones  iincerc 
pleafure.  At  dinner  he  coidd  talk  of  nothing 
but  honeii  Jackfon,  and  aiVured  his  family  that  he  was 
better  pleaied  at  having;  become  acquainted  with  his 
real  worthy  and  that  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  reward 
him,  than  if  he  had  gained  a  thoufand  pounds  in  trade. 
He  ftili  continvicd  to  talk  of  honeily,  and  added,  that 
an  honeii  man  was  always  happier. than  a  knave.  Had 
Jacldl^u  cheated  me,  c(mtinued  Mr.  Jones,  he  wouU 
not  liave  gained  as  much  as  he  has  now  by  his  honef- 
ty.  He  was  very  right  when  he  laid  that  the  very 
enemies  of  an  honef\  man  often  labour  to  promote  his 
fortune,  becaufe  they  fpeak  ill  him,  which  contri- 
butes to  make  other  people  more  attentive  to  his  coa^- 
duel,  and  they  difcover  the  good  qualities  which  ^ 
modelt  man  is  not  .eager  to  bring  forward  to  notice. 

At  the  end  of  a  fojrtnight  another  caufe  of  joy  oc- 
curred, which  gave  them  even  more  pleafure.  Mr» 
Jones  Itood  at  the  window  chatting  with  his  children, 
fuddenlv  Mary  cried  out,  father,  father!  look,  look! 
what  is  that  coming  up  the  ftreet  ?  a  whole  cart-full 
of  people,  H'ealiy  believe  it  is  the  Curate,  and  all  hisfamis- 
ly.  In  a  moment  Charles'  head  was  out  of  tlie  ^vinr 
dow.  It  is,  it  is  indeed !  There  is  dear  Mrs.  Ben.- 
fon,  there  is  George  and  Henry,  Mr.  Jones  was 
foon  convinced  that  it  was  them.  Now  there  was  a 
tumult  of  joy  throughout  the  whole  houfe,  every  one 
calling  out,  here  comes  the  Curate !  here  comes  the 
curate  ! — The  door  was  opened,  the  g'acfts  ftepped 
out  ,  all  freih  and  in  health.  But  at  firiV  they  could 
ROt  fay  much ;  they  w^ere  fo  ftarved  with  cold  that 
they  could  only  bring  out,  as  they  tripped  into  the 
houfe,  hov/  cold  it  is  !   how  dreadfully  cold !  Mr. 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


195 


Jones  defired  his  fervant  to  take  care  of  their  horfe, 
aiici  then  followed  his  gueiU  into  a  warm  room. 

The  dear  travellers  thought  it  very  pleafant  to  come 
from  the  frozen  iields  i-nto  fiich  a  comfortable  room, 
and  be  received  by  inch  friendly  people.  Mr  Jones 
and  his  children  hel^x^d  them  to  tai^e  oif  their  great 
coats  and  cloaks,  -with  which  they  had  mnflied  tiiem- 
felves,  and  Mrs.  Jases  ordered  fome  good  chocolate  to 
refrefh  her  friends,  whofe  teeth  ftill  chattered  with 
cold.  Half  an  hour  paiied  before  they  were  faificient- 
ly. recovered  to  enter  into  any  regniar  converfation  ; 
and  iz  was  not  till  after  they  had  drunk  two  cups  of 
chocolate  that  they  began  to  converfe.  They  drew 
their  chairs  nearer  to  each  other,  and  Mr.  Noel,  who 
came  to  alk  a  queftion,  was  requeued  to  make  one  of 
the  party. 

Nov/,  my  dear  friend,  faid  Mr.  Jones,  tell  v\s  vv'hat 
has  happened  to  you  fmce  we  left  your  houfe;  didtthe 
difmal  days  of  ficknefs  long  endure  .'^  ' 

The  Curate  related  very  circumlfantially  how  much 
they  had  afterwards  fnlfiered  ;  but  aiTui*ed  them,  at  the 
lame  tiras,  that  they  had  never  in  their  lives  been  bet- 
ter than  they  v;ere  at  prefent;  the  danger,  continued 
he,  of  lofnig  my  wife  and  children^  who  are  my  fole 
treafure,  maac  me  very  fad  ;  bai  I  have  myfeif  expe- 
rienced, that  there  is  liothing  more  vrye,  -tiiaa  what  I 
have  often  preached  to  my  parilhcncr*;;  ihat  Jorr(np  is 
very  beneficial.  As  iong  '-as  it  endures,  it  indeed  occa- 
fio.is  us  trouble  and  pain,  bdt  when  it  is  pa  it,  we  may 
plainly  fee  the  great  advantages  proc\n'ed  by  it.  I  can- 
not exprei's  to  you  how, contentedly  we  ail  now  live. 
Oar  children' always  loved  us,  becaufe  we  ever  treated 
themi^th  t€-tidernefs;  but  when  they,  in  their  fick- 
ncfs,  'f^vv  hk!>w  careful  we  ere  of  them,  how  much 
ifv€  fiihered- on"  their'  account,  they  then  hrii  difcover- 
ed  ihc  fui4  ec^tent  of  our  aife(ll:ion,  and  are  row  fo  dif- 
pofed  ta  do-'^'every  thing  which  we  deiirc,  that  v.  e 
could  ix>t  ifh  fowhetter  children.  And  even  my  wife 
and  i-  I0V&  each  t)*her  much  better  fnice  we  baVe  learn- 
tdiu  the  Tick  chamber  how  abfolutely  neceiri;ry  we  are 
R  z 


E  L  E  M  E.N  T  S  OF 


to  each  other.  I  my  myfelf  have  been  very  much  im- 
proved  by  it,  for  I  an  become  more  mild  and  forbear- 
ing ;  formerly,  I  cannot  deny  it,  I  was  a  Hctle  halty. 
— y^'v'v^ell,  ^vell,  anfwered  his  wife,  holding  up  her 
finfi^cr  widi  an  arch  look,  do  not  tell  of  yourfelf :) 
lofiHcrly  continued  he,  fmiling,  I  was  indeed  too  hafty, 
1  miul  acknowledge  it.  I  grew  .angry  in  a  moment 
when  anyiittle  unlucky  accident  happined  in  the  family  ; 
but  now  how  inleniibly  have  I  been  taught  patience, 
by  ehc  anxiety  which  I  felt  on  watching  at  the  fide  of 
the  lick  bed  :  when  one  of  them  cried,  oh,  father,  I 
am  fo  thirfty  i  another,  I  muft  fit  up  ;  a  third,  oh, 
my  head  !  my  head  !  it  does  fo  ache  !  When  the  infant 
cried,  and  the  mother  groaned,  then  I  learned  to  h© 
patient,  then  I  learned  to  give  foft  words.  Now  I 
ihould  certainly  not  fo  ealily  be  made  angry  by  any 
unlucky  accident.-— And  how  much  more  have  I  learn- 
ed ;  I  know  now  hov/  we  ought  to  nurfe  the  Tick,  how 
to  heal  a  bad  breaft  and  how  to  treat  children  who 
have  the  fmall-pox.  Since  the  illnefs  of  my  children, 
I  have  been  called  in  by  all  the  peafants,  whofe  chil- 
dren were  Tick  of  the  fmall-pox.  I  gave  them  the 
good  advice  which  I  had  gleaned  from  experience,  and 
have  been  fo  lucky  as  to  fave  the  hves  of  many  chil- 
dren, who  laid  in  a  very  dangerous  Aate,  and  the 
eyes  of  one  ;  all  which  I  Ihould  not  have  been  able  to 
have  done,  if  my  own  fufferings  had  not  taught  me. 

If  we  had  no  forrow,  we  Ihould  be  fo  accuftomed  to 
the  comforts  of  life,  that  we  fhould  no  more  think  of 
their  real  value,  or  enjoy  the  days  of  health  and  peace ; 
but  wlien,  now  and  then,  a  day  or  week  of  anguilh 
and  diiirefs  comes,  we  really  rejoice  in  the  pleafant 
days  that  follow.  Yes,  how  good  does  this  chocolate 
taite  in  the  company  of  fuch  dear  friends,  and  with 
my  beloved  family,  who  feem  to  be  fnatched  from  th« 
grave.  I  fhould  not  have  felt  the  pleafure  I  now  do, 
if  1  had  never  known  forrow.  It  is  with  forrow  as 
with  the  winter,  whilft  it  endures  it  is  very  difagreea- 
ble  ;  but  when  it  is  oyer,  the  recollection  of  it  adds  to 
the  beauty  and  frelhnefs  of  fpring. 


M  O  11  A  L  I  T  Y.  197 


You  have  obferved  very  j'-iftly,  dear  Curate,  faid 
Mr.  Noel ;  for  ia  my  youth  I  had  few  real  cares  or 
Ibrrov/s,  every  thing  v/ent  on  as  I  could  wiih. ;  but  I 
am  alhaaied  of  myfelf,  when  I  look  back,  when  I  re- 
flecl  what  a  man  I'have  been. — I  did,  at  the  moment, 
%hatcver  pleafed.-my  foolifh  fancy :  I  was  proud, 
without  pity,  and  treated  poor  people  as  if  they  were 
no  better  than  brutes.  I  was  a  tyrant  to  my  fervants, 
and  ufed  them  ill  for  the  leall  overfight.  Employment 
was  a  thing  I  never  thought  ot;  I  did  nothing  but  eat, 
drink,  dauce  and  play  ;  walk  about,  redicule  people, 
and  deep.  It  is  only  fmce  my  fufferings  began,  fmce 
I  have  endured  poverty,  hanger  and  contempt^  that  I 
have  become  prudent  and  virtuous.  Oh,  how  ufieful  I 
how  ufeful  has  lorrow  been  to  me  ! 

In  fdch  friendly  convcrfadons  a  great  part  of  the  day 
palTed  away  inlenfibly.  About  three  o'clock  the  Cu- 
rate ftood  up,  and  taking  his  great  coat,  looked  as  if 
he  nieant,  with  his  family,  now  to  bid  them  adieu. 
But  they  all  gathered  round  him,  and  oppofed  his  de- 
partr.re.  Mrs.  Jones  entreated,  her  hulbandreprefent- 
ing  that  the  days  v.  ere  now  (liort,  and  that  it  was 
dangerous  to  travel  at  night.  As  for  Charles  and  Ma- 
ry, they  even  ufed  force,  holding  the  great  coat  that 
he  might  not  put  it  on  ;  at  lai\  his  own  family  deferted 
h'n\i,  and  joined  in  entreating  him  to  ftay.  The  chil- 
dren whined  and  killed  his  hand  ;  he  took  refuge  Vvith 
his  wife,  and  begged  her  to  Ibnd  by  him;  but  fne, 
made  the  matter  ^vorfe.  I  think,  my  dear,  hiid  Ihe, 
we  may  as  well  l\ay  ;  v/e  have  left  iuch  orders  at  home, 
that  all  will  go  well,  though  we  Ihould  not  return  to- 
night. There  was  then  a  general  expreiiion  of  joy. 
Tnc  Curate  faw  himfelf  overcome,  and  was  obliged  to 
give  up  the  great-coat,  which  the  little  folks  held  fo 
f  Having  gained  their  point,  they  fprang  joyfully 
.from  him,  and  locked  it  up  carefully  in  a  ciofet. 


R  3 


^9^  ^,       E  L  E  M  £  N  T  S  OF 


CHAPTER  XL. 


A  F  T  E  R.  the  cliildren  had  been  fome  time  in  the- 
J"\_  room,  they  ran  uito  the  yard  to  amufe  thein- 
felves  with  Hiding.  They  had  two  httle  fledges  with, 
which  they  were  allowed  to  play,  as  long  as  the  yard 
was  covered  with  fnow  The  rough  wind  that  had 
whiftled  in  the  morning,  was  now  laid  ;  and  the  wea- 
ther become  quite  mild.  The  children  exerciied  them- 
feives  fo  much  by  dragging  the  fledges,  that  they  did 
not  feel  the  cold  ;  and  were  perfectly  happy  The  day 
now  began  to  dole,  and  they  reiolved  to  return  to  the 
company.  But,  before  they  quitted  the  yard,  a  plea- 
limt  thought  came  into  Charles'  head.  He  faw  the 
pleafarecart  in  which  the  Curate  and  his  family  came  ; 
iie  got  into  it,  begging  his  little  playmates  to  follow 
hini;  they  did  not  recjuire  many  entreaties,  and  were 
loon  feated  ;  and  then  Charles  made  a  motion  as  if  he 
tlrove  the  horfe  on.  Jehu,  jehu  !  cried  he,  that  we 
ij]ay  foon  arrive  at  George's  horde.  But  there  was  no 
horfe  to  receive  encouragement  from  Charles  ;  the  cart 
did  not  mov^e  an  inch  from  the  place.  Upon  this  the 
whole  party  burft  out  a  laughing,  and  got  oat  a- 
gain. 

Their  little  driver  followed  them,  though  he  could 
fcarcely  laugh  with  them.  Could  I  but  once  have  a 
ride  in  fiich  a  cart;  dear  me,  how  pleafant  that  would 
be  I  Do  vou  really,  faid  George,  wiih  to  go  }  If  you 
do,  I  will  run  dircclly  to  my  father,  and  beg  him  to 
let  the  horie  be  put  to. 

There  is  the  cart,  and  there  ftand  the  horfe  idle  ;  in 
the  winter  he  has  iutie  work  to  do  ;  and  I  have  often 
heard  that  horfes  grow  refliiF  when  they  ftand  long  in 
the  (table  :  fo  it  cannot  do  him  much  harm  if  we  trot 
about  for  half  an  hour.  So,  without  waiting  far  an 
anfwer,  he  ran  into  the  parlour.  AH  the  little  tolks 
followed  him,  and  furrounded  the  Curate. 


MORALITY. 


George  firO  whifpered  in  his  ear  what  they  wiflied  ; 
and  they  all  feconded  his  prayer,  either  with  their 
looks  or  words.  The  Curate  Ihook  his  head,  and  faid, 
I  know  not  whether  Mr.  Jones  will  be  fatisfied.  I 
cannot  give  you  my  permilHon  without  his  confent. 
All  the  children  then  fixed  their  eyes  on  Mr,  Jones — 
and  he  faw  by  their  fparkling  that  they  wilhed  to  afl<. 
fomething  of  him  ;  he  cauie  up  to  them,  and  enquired 
very  good-iiun>ou redly  what  they  w'ere  confulting  a- 
bout.  The  Curate  told  him  in  a  few  words  ;  and  Mr. 
Jones,  who  always  liked  to  Ihew  that  he  reluctantly 
refufed  tofatisfy  the  wifhes  of  his  children,  feemed  dif- 
pofed  to  comply.  He  looked  at  the  iky,  and  laid,  the 
Iky  is  clear,  the  weather  mild,  and  I  have  noobjedtion 
to  the  party  ;  but  we  cannot  let  them  go  alone,  be- 
caufe  fome  accident  may  happen  through  their  thought- 

Jeflhefs.  It  is  neceiiary  that  fome  perfon  of  more  years 
and  experience  fliould  accompany  them.  But  I  am 
afraid,  my  dear  Sir,  that  this  little  Jaunt  might  v.  eary 
you,  as  you  certainly  are  not  quite  recovered  from  the 
fatigue  of  your  morning's  journey.  The  Curate,  how- 
ever, alTured  him.  that  he  would  willingly  take  part 
in  their  pleafure ;  and  added,  that  his  little  journey 

'  had  not  fatigued  him,  as  he  had  defigned  to  return  in 
the  e^'ening. 

The  two  mothers  were  now  called,  and  afked  whe- 
ther they  would  accompany  them. 

This  propofal  was  particularly  agreeable  to  Mrs. 
Jones,  who  had  not  been  out  of  the  houfe  for  above 
a  week,  and  wiflied  for  a  httle  exercife. 

Mr.  Jones  then  ordered  his  own  horfe  to  be  har- 
neffed  with  the  curate's,  that  they  might  not  over- 
Avork  the  horfc  whilft  they  were  taking  their  own 
pleafure ;  and  the  children  hopped  and  jumped  for 
joy.  Whilit  the  horfes  were  putting  to,  they  drank 
tea,  and  then  the  whole  company  feated  them- 
felves  in  the  cart ;  and  they  wrapped  thefelves  up 
fo  warmly,  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
cold. 

They  drove  directly  to  the  Downs^  from  which 


200  E  L  E  M  E  N  T  S   O  F 


they  could  fee  a  great  way  on  every  fide  ;  and  the 
icicles,  which  hung  on  the  rocks  and  trees,  feemed  . 
to  be  beautifully  dilpofed  on  purpofe  to  amuie  them.  I 
The  rokd  was  beaten,  and  fo  foft,  that  the  cart  rolled 
fmoothly  on  it  without  the  company  feeling  any  m- 
couvenience  from  the  motion  ;  the  weather  was  mild, 
the  air  llill,  and  the  whole,  heavens  ferene  and  be- 
fpangled  with  liars, 

Mary  was  particularly  pleafcd  with  this  fight  ;  aad 
faid  to  her  brother,  look  at  all  thofe  little  lights,  how 
they  tvv'inkk  !  They  are  not,  anfwered  Charles,  little 
lights,  but  great  balls  ;  the  fmalleft  of  which  is  faid  to 
be  larger  than  our  earth.  Mary  buril  out  a  laughing, 
and  faid,  ©nly  think,  father,  Charles  wants  to  make 
me  believe  that  thofe  Uttle  lights  above  us,  in  the  Iky, 
are  great  halls. 

Charles  is  right,  replied  the  father  ;  they  are  cer«  I 
tainly  bails  ;  and  the  moit  part  of  them  are  larger  than 
Gur  earth.    But  how  do  you  know  that,  dear  father, 
afked  Mary?  I    know  it  becaufe    they  are    fo   far  i 
from  us,  snd  ftili  we  can  fee  them.    Do  you  not  j 
remember  how  little  the  lleeples  of  o  .r  city  Appear-  ! 
ed  when  we  were  at  a  ditlance  irom  them  p  It  is  the 
fame  with  the  ftars,  they  feem  iictle  lo  us  becaLife  we  ■ 
are  far  from  them.    If  they  v.' ere  no  longer  than  a  . 
flambeau,  they  v/o'-ld  be  as  invifible   to  us  as  the 
briiifes  on  the  little  bulls  at  the   tops  of  the  vlecpies- : 
you  faw  v/hen  we  were  removed  at  the  diltance  from  ■ 
them. 

But  Is  not  this  Very  v/o  iderfrl,  continued  Mary  ?■ 
Who  has  place  ri  chc  liars  fo  high  ^  it  is  inipofiible  for  a  : 
man  to  rcj.h  che-n.  ^  l 

It  is  indeed  ir.\;-o.Tiblc,  anfv/ered  Mr.  Jones  5  and 
it  is  for  this  reaion  that  v/e  o\.ght  to  be  certain,  that 
befide  man,  th-re  itill  muil  be  a  being  whole  power  : 
extends  to  the  liars,  as  well  as  to  our  earth.  I  will 
now  name  tliis  being  to  you: — children,  hear  his 
name  with  reverance  !  lie  is  calietl  Go{l  !  at  thefe 
\Vo,ds  Mr  Jones  folded  his  hands,  the  C  rate  did  the 
fame,  the  children  imitated  their  example^  and  a  pro- 


MORALITY. 


2.01 


found  iilence  enfncd  for  above  a  minute  ;  ^vhich  the 
Curate  broke,  by  laying,  there  is  ever  aa  awful  paufe 
in  my  mind,  when  I  think  on  this  fubject.    We  mult 
be  bund  if,  m  what  we  fee  above,  below,  and  around 
us,  we  do  not  difco^'er  God.    No  mill,  no  watch,  be- 
gins to  move  of  itlclf.    All  thefe  machines  are  pro- 
iduced  by  the  human  underftanding  ;  much  lefs  can  the 
[great  world  proceed  from  itfelf.    Every  thing  goes 
Ion  in  it  as  orderly  as  in  a  good  watch.    The  ftars  ne- 
iver  go  out  of  their  courfe,  or  drive  againrt  one  ano- 
i  thet  ;  and  all  things  fpring  up  in  due  leaibn  ;  as  I  can 
'  point  out  beforehand,  where  the  hands  of  my  watch 
I  will  ftand  as  a  certain  hour,  fo  I  know  where  the  fun 
(  will  be  at  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  ,  where, 
to-morrow,  will  be  this  great  beautiful  ftar,  which  is 
I  called  Venus  ;  nay,  in  what  part  of  tiie  fky  the  moon 
I  will  appear  in  a  few  moments.    Look  where  I  point 
i  with  my  finger,  there  it  will  foon  be  viiible. 

Scarcely  had  they  advanced  a  few  yards,  when  the 
,  moon  arofe  ;  and  they  all  clapped  their  hands  and 
cried,  Oh  the  beautiful  moon  !  How  little  are  w€ 
when  compared  to  God,  continued  he.  I  fometimes 
i  think,  with  w'onder,  on  what  I  poffeis,  wheal  walk 
in  ray  garden.  Ifl  had  a  whole  village,  men  would 
reckon  me  very  rich  ;  if  a  large  ertate,  I  fliould  be 
called  a  great  lord  ;  and  ftill  greater  Ihould  I  appear, 
ifl  had  kingdoms  ;  as  for  example,  a  prince,  king, 
emperor.  "^But  if  I  had  a  thouland  kingdoms,  if  I  had 
the  whole  earth,  what  portion  Ihould  I  have  of  the 
whole  univerfe  ? — not  more  than  one  of  thofe  little 
ftars  which  glow  above  us.  For  to  the  people  who 
inhabit  thofe  little  l\ars,  our  earth,  with  all  its  moun- 
tains, cities  and  fteeples,  would  not, be  viiible. 

Are  there  then  people  then  in  the  liars  ?  aflied  Ma- 
ry,   full  ofaftoniihment. 

Hov/  can  we  doubt  it  ?  anfwered  the  Curate  ;  for 
do  you  not  fee,  my  dear  children,  that  on  the  earth 
every  thing  is  filled  with  living  creatures  ?  Dig  into 
t:he  earth,  tliere  all  is  ahve.  Mount  upon  a  tree, 
Ithere  you  Y/ili  find  various  infedls.    Cut  a  tree  in 


201  ELEMENTS  OF 

two,  and  you  will  fee  that  it  contains  a  little,  city,  in 
which  there  is  a  muiticude  of  inhabitants!  How' 
many  thoiifands  ofinfe<Sts.  live  in  a  fmgle  cheefe  !  If 
God  thus  iiils  every  little  corner  of  the  earth,  do  you 
think  that  he  would  leave  thofe  great  globes  like 
a  defart  ?  W  ould  he  'have  jjatliered  together  all  th? 
living  creatures  upon  fach  a  imall  point  as:  our  earth  ? 
The  liars  which  Wefee  are  anly  a  fmal'l  part  of  the^ 
Dniverie.  Look  at  the  broad  white  ilrip-w/nich  erodes^ 
the  Iky  ;  it  is  all  compofed  of  ilars,  which  men  difco* 
vered  through  good  telefcopes,  and  who  .  knows  havf 
many  thoufand  are  iWll  above  them  !  God  has  made 
all  thefe,  they  belong  to  God. — -OJj  God^  hcvj  great' 
art  thou  I  Oh  God !  ho-jj  great  art  ihon  !  repeated  Mn 
Jones  after  him,  and  ihe  whole  conipany,  full  of  ad- 
miration, remained  Uient.  ^  . 

Have  yow  tiieav  aied..  Mary,  feen  .God  ?  I  have 
not  feen  hii;!,.  her  can  any  one  ^ieei  him,  replied  the 
Curate. 

I  canno' oci'cve  t-'  -.it   G - .{  is  here,  if  we  do 

net  fee  h  •.      id-  [vl'r.rv.  • »;»  aad  - my  ^father^ 

Gecr^  Ai-cvt:-ii  ,  .   ice  riie  houles  too-; 

v.'liy  ^  ice  c Tiie  Curate  wocld  have 

xr  toiler:  bi't  a  fudden, guft  of 
\y    .  -a:  a  conllderable  way  over^-the- 

do  Will-  • 

The  boy  wn..  1  _  ,.  rH  'I'.rie  held  him  in  f 

the  CiU'^te  got  o;  r,  a^-  rifn  a  good 

while  before  he  taugiic  his  i  nri  rolled  it- 

before  him.  -> • 

After  he  had  got  it  agaui,  be  c.^me- baclv-io  die  ciit^t^ 
and  fa  id,  do  you  knosv  v.- hat  took  oft'  my'  hac,  arid 
made  it  roll  lb  far  acrofs  the  doWns  ?  Oh,  ■  you  know 
very  well,  fays  Mary,  that  it  ^ was  the  '  wind.  '^The 
wind  [  anfvvered  the  Curate  ;  have  you  ever  feen  it  ? 
Mary  Having  a ^ured  him  that  Ihe  never  had,  you 
perce^  3  :hJii,  he  continued,  my  good  girl,  that  there 
are  tilings  which  no  one  has  ever  feen,  and  which  Ihll 
can  produce  eiiecls.  It  is  the  liune  with  God  ;  no  one 
fees  him  J  yet  he  works  every  v-  hcre. 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y. 


During  this  converfation  the  hour  deftined  for  the 
little  jaunt  expired,  and  they  turned  towards  home. 

The  chddren  were  fo  touched  by  what  the  Curate 
had  faid  of  God,  thac  they  were  fcarcely  arrived  at 
the  houfe,  when  they  begged  him  and  Mr.  Jones  to 
tell  him  foniething  more  of  their  Creator.  Mr.  Jones 
wciit  into  a  adjaceat  room,  and  brought  a  beautiful 
magnet  with  liiin.  Pay  attention,  children,  fpid  he, 
and  I  will  ihew  you  fomething  very  remarkable. 
He  laid  a  needle,  then  a  knife  upon  the  table,  it  foon 
raifed  them  both  ;  he  afterwards- laid  a  bar  of  iron 
under  it,  to  which  a  ring  was  failened  ;  it  ficw  in 
the  fiime  manner,  hanging  to  this  woiiderfui  flone, 
and  fO; firmly  adhered  to  it,  chat  a  ccniiderable  weight, 
.which  was  fufpended  to  the  ring,  could  not  feparate 
them. 

What  has  raifed  the  iron  ?  afl^ed  Henry. 

There  is  fomething  inviffole,  anfwered  Mr.  Jones, 
always  in  the  magner,  which  attracts  iron.  There 
are  many  ihings  beiidcs  which  we  cannot  fee,  whofe 
effects  we  ftlil  feel.  Approach  the  oven,  and  you 
willfeelit  warm  ;  go  into  the  frefli  air,  and  you  will 
feel  it  cold.  We  have  remarked,  that  cold  makes  the 
running  water  hard  ;  and  that  when  you  carry  ice  in- 
to a  room,  warmth  will  make  it  How  again.  Never- 
thelefs,  you  have  never  feen  either  heat  or  cold  in  the 
air,  which  does  all  this. — So  it  is  with  God. — When- 
ever we  call  our  eyes,  we  fee  his  v.  orks  ;  but  he  him- 
felf  is  invifible  to  us. 

During  thele  converfation  the  evening  pafl  away  : 
the  time  of  rell  approached  ;  but  the  children  were  fo 
impreffed  by  what  they  had  heard  of  God,  that  they 
earneftly  entreated  their  parents  to  can  tinute  his  con- 
verfation next  day. 


204 


ELEMENTS  OF 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


SCARCELY  were  die  children  affembled  at 
breakfaft,  the  f(jllowmg  morning,  when  they  re- 
peated the  requefl:  which  they  had  made  to  their  pa- 
rents the  evening  before,  that  they  would  fay  fome-  i, 
thing  more  of  God  ;  and  Mr.  Jones  defired  the  Cu-  I 
rate  to  take  the  tafk  on  hinfelf. 

Dear  children,  faid  he,  you  may  eafily  believe 
that  the  God  who  has  made  thofe  great  globes  in  the 
heavens,  and  all  that  we  fee  on  earth,  could  eafily  i 
torment  and  injure  us,  or,  in  a  momet,  kill  us ;  but  i! 
he  does  not  do  it;  he  only  employs  his  power  to  give  ' 
joy  and  pleafure  to  the  living  creatures  whom  he  has  ; 
created.    All  the  pleafure  that  you  have  enjoyed  in  j 
your  life,  and        will  enjoy,  comes  from  the  fame 
God  who  made  the  ftars.    For  he  has  produced  every 
thing  that  affords  you  pleafure.    This  chocolate,  for 
example—^ 

I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir,  interrupted  Mary  ;  our 
cook  made  it.  So  it  feems  to  you,  continued  the  Cu- 
rate ;  but,  in  fad,  all  comes  from  God.  The  cocoa, 
and  the  fugar  cane,  of  which  the  chocolate  is  made, 
he  commanded  to  grow.  He  produced  the  feeds  out 
of  which  thefe  plants  fprang  ;  warmed  them  with  his 
fun,  and  moiltened  them  with  his  rain.  The  water, 
which  is  necelTary  to  mix  with  thefe  ingredients,  he 
bade  fpring  out  of  a  fcource  that  never  fails  ;  and  the 
cook  could  not  have  made  this  chocolate  if  God  had 
not  given  h^r  more  underftanding  than  he  has  given 
to  a  cat  or  a  dog. 

So  it  is  with  every  thing  that  we  fee ;  God  has 
made  all.  Neverthelcfs  it  would  all  be  loft  on  us,  if 
he  had  not  fo  formed  us  that  we  can  enjoy  pleafure. 

Mary,  hold  your  hand  out  a  little;  I  will   fhed  . 
a  little  chocolate    into  it  ;  does  it  not  tafte  yery 
good. 


MORALITY. 

/ 


You  joke,  Sir,  faid  Mary  ;  I  tafte  nothirg.  He 

then  ga\  e  her  half  a  cup-tull,  which  Ihe  raifed  to  her 

mouth  ;  and  alTured  him,  that  now  indeed  ihe  tafteci 

it.    You  fee,  children,  how  good  God   is,  continued 

the  Curate.    Had  he  given  to  our  tongue  and  palace 

the  lame  klndof  ikin  that  covers  our  hand,  we  (iio-.ijd 

taltc^oching,  nor   receive  any  more  pleafure  from 

^ood  rolt  mucton,  that  from  chewing  ilraw.    And,  on 

the  contrary,  hud  he  made  our  hands  in  inch  a  roan- 

wer  that  we  could  talie  through  them,  only  fuppoie 

"how  uncomfortable  it  would  make  lis.    Every  moment 

we  mult  take  hold  of  thino;s  which  have  a  difao^reab-c 

-  1  • 

taiie  ;  and  that   v/ould  caufe  conltant  loathing  and 

.<^ifguft.  When  we  take  a  walnut  out  of  its  green  co- 
vernig,  how  much  bitternefs  mufl  we  tafte  before  v.  e 
,come  to  the  fweet  nut  1 

He  took  a  little  almanack  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
fhewed  the  children  fome  pictures,  which  they  obfer- 
ved  with  pleaUire.  He  then  bid  them  faut  their  eyes, 
and  held  a  picture  to  theai  ;  but  they  faw  nothing. 
God  could,  continued  he,  ealily  have  farmed  our  eyes 
like  our  eye-lids  ;  bow  miferable  we  fliould  then  ha\'e 
been  !  There  would  have  been  for  us  no  beautiful  co- 
lours, no  rays  of  the  fun,  no  flarsin  the  Iky  to  pleafe 
us  ;  our  whole  life  long  would  be  a  black  night.  Shut 
5  our  eyes  once  again  ;  do  you  not  find  it  true  ?  is  not 
all  obfcure  and  black  before  you  ?  So  would  you  have 
been  obliged  to  grope  about  all  your  life,  if  God  had 
not  in  fuch  an  ingenious  manner  formed  your  eves. 
But  come  to  me,  Henry,  and  look  in  my  eyes  ;  what, 
do  you  fee  ?  Myfelf,  anfwered  Henry.  I  fee  indeed 
two  little  Henrys,  which  appear  as  like  to  mc  as  one 
egg  to  another.  And  I  fee  in  thine,  faid  the  Curate, 
two  little  Curates.  Our  eyes  are  like  fmall  looking- 
glalTes,  in  which  every  object  is  reflected  that  paffes 
immediately  before  us.  In  this  way  we  may  remark 
every  thing  beautiful  which  God  has  produced  in  the 
world  ;  we  fee  the  mountains,  the  woods,  the  flow- 
ers, the  birds,  the  animals,  the  ftars  in  the  heavens, 
and  our  dear  friends.    Have  you   underilood  me  ? 


2o6 


ELEMENTS  OF 


The  clii](Ji-ed  allV.recl  him  that  they  had.  And  now, 
George,  Hop  your  ears  with  your  fingers.  We  fee 
t\H  mountauas,  the  woods,  the  flowers,  the  birds^  the 
ahlinals,  the  liars  in  the  heavens,  and  our  dear  friends  ; 
(hc^  winked  that  he  Ihould  open  his  ears  again  ;)  have 
you  now  luiderrtood  me  ?  Not  a  word,  dear  father, 
anfwered  he.  How  much  pleafure,  rejoined  the  Cu- 
rate, ihould  we  be  depi'lved  of,  if  God  had  not  given 
us  ears.  Vie  Ihould  not  hear  the  inRrudive  conver- 
fations  of  our  friends,  nor  the  fweet  founds  of  mufic  ; 
and  of  what  ufe  would  be  the  melodious  notes  of  the 
nightingale,  if  we  did  not  hear  them  ?— -all  would  be 
ufeiefs  to  us. 

What  an  agreeable  odour  the  rofe,  the  carnation, 
the  auricula,  the  hyacinth,  have  I  All  thefe  pleafures 
may  be  afcribed  to  that  wifdom  which  had  formed  our 
nofe  different  from  our  eyes,  hands  and  mouth;  be- 
caufe  he  has  formed  it  in  fuch  a  manner,  that  through 
it  we  can  feel  the  exaltations  of  things.. 

It  is  thus  our  eyes,  our  ears,  mouth  and  nofe,  are 
fo  many  doors  through  which  pleafure  enters  into  our 
fouls.  But  oh  ]  how  much  pain  too,  desrPvIr.  Cu- 
rate, faid  Charles;  if  you  did  but  know  what  r. 
dreadful  pain  I  had  in  my  teeth  when  my  parents  and 
filler  were  with  you  !  Does  pain  alfo  come  from 
God?  Undoubtedly,  anfwered  the  Curate,  pain  alfu 
comes  from  God.  For  God,  who  has  fo  fornied  w. 
tliat  we  can  ^eel  agreeable  feafations,  made  our  na- 
ture fuch,  that  we  mull  alfo  teel  difagreeable  ones 
But  %\  hen  he.  has  fent  pain,  he  only  does  it  tha: 
thro,  gh  pain  he  may  procure  us  more  pleafure.  Your 
fatiicr  has  informed  me,  that  your  tooth-ache  gav- 
you  an  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with  an 
honell  jew,  who  freed  you  from  the  pain;  that  this 
acquaintance  had  engaged  him  to  advance  a  confider- 
able  fum,  that  enabled  the  Jew  to  begin  a  b.ifinels, 
by  which  he  maintains  his  family  in  a  decent,  honeft 
manner.  When  you  fee  this  Jew,  what  do  you 
thiuk  ? 

I  always  feel  fnicere  joy,  replied  Charles. 


M  O  ?.  A  L  I  T  y.- 


207 


AiiA  this  jay,  continued  the  Curate,  you  have  to 
thank  y or, r  tooth-ache  for.  If  you  had  not  had  the 
toorh-ache,  the  Jew  co'ald  not  have  cured  you,  your 
father  would  not  have  become  acquainted  with  hiiu, 
and  of  courfe  wouUl  not  have  lent  him  the  money, 
which  has  been  of  fo  much  ufe  to  him.  Your  pain 
k  long  lince  over,  but  the  Jevv's  happinefs  will  for  a 
length  of  time  atibrd  you  joy.  Experience  has  then 
ta-^ght  you  that  pain  is  ibmething  good,  becaufe  it 
leads  to  joy.  Can  you  ilill  recollect  how  rhe.  Jew 
looked,  who  freed  you  from  your  pain  ? 

O  yes  I  anfwered  Charles,  very  well  ;  he  liad  a 
large  nofe,  a  grey  beard,  a  Itowu  coat,  and  a  very 
Arange  way  Gi  talking.  It  feems  to  me  as  if  I  now 
heard  him  fpeak,  as  if  X  faw  him  before  me. 

Obferve,  faid  the  Curate,  further,  that  God  has 
fo  made  us,  that  we  can  reprefent  to  ourielves  pall 
and  abfent  things,  and  rclifli  our  amj^em.ents  over 
again  ;  he  procures  i  s,  in  this  vv^ay,  much  pleafure. 
By  this  faculty  we  can  reprefent  an  sbfent  friend  to 
pur  minds,  remember  the  good  we  have  done,  thti 
pleafures  we  have  enjoyed  ;  and  procure  ourielves 
many  agreeable  iiours,  independent  of  outward  cir- 
cr.mitanles.    Have  you  never  read  a  book  that  amufed 

les,  many,  anfv/ered  they  all. 

Lalt  week,  faid  Charles,  i  read  Young  Grandifcn  ; 
it  is  a  charming  book,  and  quite  delighted  me. 

But,  continued  the  Curate,  if  you  were  10  put  that 
book  before  a  dog  or  a  cat,  it  v.ould  not  uiuierihiud 
a  word  of  the  concents ;  and  therefore  could  not  re- 
ceive any  amufement  from  it.  If  God  then  had  not 
given  you  reafon,  only  think  how  many  pleafures 
you  v,-o\dd  be  deprived  of  ;  you  could  neither  re^'d  a 
book,  nor  vvrite  a  letter  :  you  could  not  reflect  how 
you-might  better  your  ii:uat!on.  No  houfcs  v/ouJd 
be  built,  and  you  would  be  obliged  to  live  in  holes 
and  caverns  like  animals.^  Does  it  not  then  appear 
tliat  God  muil  love  men,  when  he  has  formed  them 

S  2 


2oS  ELEMENTS  OF 

in  inch  a  manner  that  they  can  enjoy  lb  m.  xh  p'ea- 
iVire  ? 

Bi.r,  {Ad  George,  (lo-^s  not  Gu.l  love  the  poor 
'aiiiinai: ,  :;•;.! >.;ie  he  lias  not  cr<.^;..t.ca  tiicm  in  j'uch 
in.inner.  diat    tiiey  caii  tiijoy    as  much  pleauire  as 

lie  net  anxious  about  that,  aiifwcreti  his  father  ; 
God  has  fo  formed  every  aniisral,  that  the  greater  part 
ofitslifeis  palled  conionicd'v  ;  its  pleauires  far  ex- 
ceed its  pains.  Tfanimciis  are  deprived  of  many  of 
the  enjoyments  that  God  lois  ornnted  to  man,  recol- 
Ivcl  that  man  is  the  •>    "  ••crk  ve  are  acnuainr- 

ed  with,  and  has  th.-  ....  '..^  to  lulhl.    ihi  the 

contrary,  i-jiimals  i-rc  porliaps  often  gratified  with 
things  v.'hi,d-i  w  e  pliGg  .  er  with  indiherence  ;  life  is 
a"  oleiimg  to  tiuni,  heca  ooltis  a  gift  fro:ii  God,  who, 
when  He  called  ao.  v  ( l  eatnre  into  exiltance,  deugned 
to  commnnicai-e  ioo.cr  d-aree  of  happinels  to  it  ;  and 
Vv  hen  it  fufters  pam,  it  is  to  render  it  better,  in  order 
that  it  may  enjoy  more  nlcauire.  Lock  at  Charles* 
Sancho,  who  is  lieeping  yonder.  God  has  particularly 
delllned  for  his  nonri(ii,;nent  tlie  bones,  which  man 
cannot  eat  ;  he  cai:  gnaw  the  griitles,  find  the  mar- 
row in  the  bones-,  and  live  on  what  we  cannot  cat  or 
reliih.  The  poor  animal  would  be  in  a  dreadful  i\ate 
if  he  had  a  hoof  like  a  horfe,  and  weak  teeth  like  a 
ilicep.  But  von  have  jnft  perceived  that  his  Creator 
forciaw  cUl  that  he  would  have  need  of,  to  procure  his 
food.  Now  I  iunx'  u.^mething  fait  rn  my  hand.  Come 
hither,  George,  and  iry  ifyoucan  gO:eis,  by  In'clling 
it,  w  hat  it  contains. — You  cannot.  x\\'v>  I  w  ill  hold 
my  hand  to  Sancho.  Eee  liow  he  licks  it,  how  he 
v/.;gs  his  tail ;  he  will  foon  bark,  he  gives  us  now  to 
nnderhand  that  n:y  hlf  contains  fomething  which  is 
proper  for  him  to  eat — there,  Sancho,  you'  fnall  hava 
it,  you  h'ive  giiert  it  ;  itvv  a.-a  criift  of  bread.  You 
perceive,  by  this,  tliat  God  b.as  g^vcn  a  finer  ienfe  of 
I'melhng  to  the  flog,  tlian  to  us;  by  which  means  he 
jceks  for,  and  dikova's,  all  the  nouriihment  around 
him,  which  is  lit  for  him.    Confider  a  little  his  paws. 


A  L  I 


Y. 


209 


-^how  fnppie  they  nrc,  and  provided  wich  TihIi  cx- 
ceileiu  naiis,  v/iih  vhich  he  can  hold  fidt  the  bone 
he  willies  to  gnaw  ;  but  this  could  not  be  done  if  he 
had  the  feet  of  a  horfe  or  a  goat:  and  thcfe  tceth^ 
^fee  how  firm  and  fpiky  they  are  ;  by  the  help  of  them 
he  -Jn  crack  the  hardeiUroiies,  and  lii^d  the  marrow. 
Ills  the  fame  \rith  all  animals — God  has  taken  as  much 
care  of  them  as  of  the  dog — He  has  given  to  each  all 
that  it  required  to  procure  it  food  and  pleafare.  If 
JNIrs.  jonf  s  has  in  her  kitchen  a  fov.  l  or  a  fiih,  inten- 
ded for  dinner,  and  will  allow  me  to  obfcrve  it  a  little, 
.  I  willlet  you  yourfelves  fee  that  God  has  tenderly- 
thought  of  it. 

Mrs.  Jones  went  fmillng  out  of  the  room;  but 
foou  came^back,  and  brought  vvdth  her  a  pike,  and  a 
wild  goofe,  vv'hjch  the  cook  had  jult  killed  and  drawn. 

Here  uill  be  fomeehing  to  fee.  cried  the  Curate  ; 
children  pay  attention !  rh's  goofe  found  its  pleafure 
in  the  water;  and  you  fee  that  it  is  ,fo  formed,  that 
it  can  live  as  well  in  the  w.izer  as  a  man  can  on  land. 
See  what  large  feet  it  has,  very  unlike  thofe  of  a  tur- 
key ;  but  thefe  kind  of  feet  are  neceliary,  that  it  may 
make  its  way  through  the  water.  It  it  had  not  fuch 
feet,  it  would  with  diiiicidty  move  from  the  place 
where  it  firA  began  to  Uvim.  See  how  thick  ana  clo- 
fe  the  feathers  ar-^  together,  fo  that  the  v.-ater  rolls 
Oif  without  x^^ftiing  if  Throngh  the  alldfance  of  this 
warm  frr,  the  animal  can  live  continually  in  the  wa- 
ter, wirhoiit  a  drop  coming  to  its  body.  Bit  the 
food  it  finds  in  ponds  and  lakes,  where  it  ufu- 
ally  fupports  itfelf,  might  eafily  fail. —  Vvhat  then 
would  the  poor  anim.al  do?  its  feet  are  not  made  for 
running.  If  it  w^alked  on  the  earth  from  one  pond  to 
another,  it  would  foon  be  hurt,  or  carried  awav  by 
its  ene.\!iies,  hut  this  incoaveuience  h  is  been  forefeen 
and  provided  for.  What  it  wants  in  fv%  ifcnels  of  foot 
has  been  made  up  by  thofe  long  and  llrong  winges. 
'With  thefe  it  can  raife  itfelf  in  ihe  air  very  high,  and 
can  move  itleif  from  one  place  to  aiicrher  far  quicker 
than  1  can  in  mv  pleafure- care.    Let -a5  now  examine-- 

■S3 


^ro  ELEMENTS  OF 

irscycs,  they  i-j'c  ;;pcIoi.!>^c;!]'/  v-ry  cil-Icrcnt  froM 
oi'i'b.  Obier\ i\..  ii.u:r  t!;e-  rcpcl:  r  ht'Je  '.:in.  v.  Iik  li 
ilils  a r. Jural  ci'ii  iWx-.J  over  -i:.,  vy--\  yet  can  ic^e  \cry 
throi  c  h  it. — Tii.^  ikii],  iii'lted,  uiuii  Lc  vtry 
ulefi.l  wheii  ii  nlui^C^Cb  it:,  head  Into  :he  v/altr,  for  it 
gi  arJs  the  e\  c  ill  iiich  a  manner  th.it  no  water  ca;i 
}.'ejerr;iL::  lOIC,  anvl  yeccioesiioc  pr^^  eac  its  ehierjiiiiiv 
hi,  ihod  at  the  btucopi.  its  bill  aho  dtfervcs  artnv 
tio.^.  It  is  armed  w  ith  teeth  with  which  it  can  brea- 
ks prey. 

I'iow  let  13  ciuiddcr  the  pike  ;  it  has  neither  fcer 
ro:  viiHy.  ;  hi  it  i\\i.ie  are  not  necelFary  ;  it  only  ]i\e 
iii  ihc  vaicr,  and  ne\ tr  letks  thr  any  pleaihre  out  oi 
:l  ;  yet  it  l!£3  been  fonned  by  its  Creator  witii  the  fame 
m  and  wihionji  as  ccher  annnals.  Feel  this  armopr 
-  .  i.  .h  (  O  .■.-»rs  iis  body  :  it  is  all  compofed  of  fcales, 
■mndi  l;e  io  cloiely  one  over  the  other,  that  not  a 
orop  of  Vx  ater  can  penetrate  through  then.?.  \'on  ha\  c 
cecLain^v  leen  a  ihip,  or  fonp"  other  \  eiiel,  and  remark- 
ed the  rudder,  -a  Inch  the  piiot  turns  to  directs  its 
comie.  Oi:y  pike  has  likewne  this  rpdder — it  is  his 
tail,  in  which  there  is  great  ilrenoth  ;  \\  lien  lie  ilrikcs 
the  water  vv-iih  it  lit  can  niovc  hnafelf  Vvdierever  he- 
wiihcs  ;  yes,  he  can,  by  ti:e  help  of  it,  lb  ftrongly 
i-.ioe;  hiinlelf  lorvard,  that  he  gdides  through  the  wa- 
ror  kke  a  bar:.  And  b  moh  be  fo,  or  he  \vt)nld  not 
Jive  co::do!na!d  V ,  beeaule  the  nttle  fiih  are  deltinedfbr 
hisfanporr,  antl  LvPv  couid  he  catch  them,  if  he  had 
r:OL  !;een  ma.dc  to  f\/im  qiiicker  than  they  ?  i3nt  let  us 
ex;;;nii.e  ihe  oth.er  parts  (if  his  body.  As  the  pike  vras 
jnadc  p)  Ipve  bv  inantnig  fmairfdh,  fome  of  which  you 
tee  in  bi^  maw  i  lie  had  need  or  arms  :  lee  thefe  hook- 
ed teedi,  v.hich  are  ih  funnly  fet  ;  wlien  he  chafes  a 
ihh,  he  darts  lapcn  it  open-mouthed — fnaps  it — ani 
alas  !  the  poor  bin  that  comes  into  his  teeth  need  not 
think  of  efcaping.  You  may  af^,  indeed,  with  fnr- 
prize.  V.  by  God  has  abandoned  this  little  filh  to  tbie 
voraclops  pike  ?  Bnt  conbder,  if  God  wonld  give  life 
to  a  great  number  of  aninials,  it  could  not  be  other- 
wife  5  iorne  iiiult  fnpport  others.    We  hunt  the  hare 


MORALITY, 


21 1 


rtUvi  the  parrricige,  and  find  them  very  good  ;  why 
thea  i%-)uid  it  feem  imrealcncible  to  us,  if  the  pike  cha- 
fes the  hctie  ii!h,  and  fh-engthens  kimfelf  by  devouring; 
theiii  ?  Soma  time  or  other  rhoi'e  animals  muii  die,  and 
when  the  pike  i\vallo\vs  a  fiih,  it  is  done  in  the  twink- 
ling or  an  eye  ;  on  the  contrary,  the^^  Wuuidhaveen- 
dured  much  more  if  they  had  died  of  old  age.  1  fnail 
only  lay  a  few  v/oi  ds  more  of  the  pike  ;  he  is  not  en- 
tirely Vvithout  feet.  Thefe  lirong  fins  ferve  inlleadof 
them,  ar.d  muil  be  very  nfeful  to  him  v.'hen  he  fwims 
through  the  water,  or  glides  to  the  bottom,  vvhich  he 
often  does. — It  is  the  ilr-iie  with  all  other  animals:  if 
you  coiJd  brin me  a  tnoiifand  diiierent  ones,  or  '"he  fmali- 
elt  worm,  I  coi  ld  iliew  yon  in  each  how  God  has  pro- 
vided it  with  the  organs  or  Inlluments  neceliliry  for  its 
obtaining  all  the  nonrlfhment  and  pleafure  necelFary 
for  it. 

0  Cod,  Lo-iu  c;ooJ  art  thou  I  cried  Charles,  quite 
affected.  Yes,  indeed,  ad-  ed  Mr  Jones,  we  have 
cacfetofay,  O  Godi,  how  good  art  tho';  I  When  I 
the  u^oi'ks  of  God,  I  cannot  help  beheveing  th^ic 
he  is  a  Mailer,  wbofe  grcatc::il  joy  is  to  reric'er  Aappy 
thole  creati^re;  v^  liom  he  has  made  ;  or,  to  ipeak  with 
more  pioprieiy ,  that  he  is  tke  Great  FATFfEx  of  all. 
— Through  the  whole  world  has  he  diiuded  plea- 
fure ;  in  every  little  plant,  in  every  drop  of  v/ater, 
does  it  lurk  ;  and  he  has  fo  formed  every  living  crea- 
ture, that  it  can  draw  irom  this  common  fource  its 
portion  of  plealure. 


C  H  A  F  T  E  Fx  XLIL 


WHILE  Mr.  Jones  was  fpeaking,  the  Curate 
Hipped  out  of  the  room.  In  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  he  returned,  and  told  the  company' fome- 
thing  which  was  not  very  agreeable  to  them.  The 
horle.  faid  he^  is  put  to,  and  w^aits  for  us  ;  children. 


212 


ELEMENTS  OF 


we  mu{\  now  immediately  take  leav^e.  Then  they  all 
be^an,  as  they  did  tlie  eveaing  before,  to  expctulate, 
coaiplain  and  entreat  But  aUer  ihe  Curate  had  repre- 
leined  to  Mr.  Jones  that  the  neceiTary  duties  of  his 
profeirioii  now  obhged  hiiu  to  i-c^turii  home,  he  took 
his  part,  and  faid,  1  dare  not  deraiii  a  maa  v.  ho  has 
iaiportant  bufinefs  at  hoaie.  Charier  and  .vlary  had,' 
at  fir  ft,  refafed  to  give  ip  the  Curaie's  great  coat^ . 
\vhich  they  had  feizcd  on  ;  but  as  foou  as  their  father 
defired  [hem,  they  bro  ght  it  to  hi!n.  They  now 
ftood  near  a  q'.iarrer  ofatihoLr,  taking  leave  ;  th:^.uk- 
ing  and  killing  each  oUi^r,.  Then  the  gueits  llepped 
into  the  cart,  after  having  received  aii  anurance  from 
Mr.  Jones  and  the  family,  that  they  would  foon  come 
iind  fee  them  ;  and  oif  they  drove  to  their  owa  vil- 
lage. 

After  dinner,  Mr.  Jones  returned  to  his  brfmers^ 
and  -encoL.ra^ed  his  faiiiilv  to  do  the  fame.  DuriUsT 
January,  and  part  of  Fehrunry,  their  en)ploi-,ients 
went  on  in  a  regular  manner,  wirl.oat  any  thing  re- 
markable happeniiig.  It  was  towards  ihe  niiudie  of 
February  that  fomeching  occured  which  at  firft  made 
them  all  very  uneafy. 

One  day,  as  Mr.  J-ones  was  fitting  in  the  nfidfi:  of. 
his  family,  amuiing  himfelf  with  them,  IVlrs.  band- 
f.jrd  entered  the  room;  her  eyes  were  red  with  ween- 
ii]g,  and  after  a  lliort  compliment,  the  bittereft  com- 
phi.its  bur{\  from  her.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  faid  <he 
— ah,  dear  Mrs.  Jones,  pity  me  ! — if  you  do  not  take 
my  part,  if  you  do  not  ailift  me,  i  know  not  where  I 
fhail  find  refuge.  They  oirered  her  a  chair,  and  aiked 
her  v;ha!  had  diilrelTcd  her  — She  feated  herfelf  and 
ftid,  yon  will  fee  how  a  poor  widow  is  treated.  I 
ha^'e  earned  fo  much  by  my  daughters  and  my  owa 
hard  labour,  as  to  be  able  to.  lay  by  one  h-  ..c'red 
pounds;  this  ium  I  did  r-or  v^iih  to  co.:ch  v.h.l.?  I  ould 
work,  that  I  mig'  t  have  A) n^cthn  g  when  1  became 
old  or  fu-k;  or  If  n.  ^l:.:a;-ci  iho  Id  have  any 

unforeieen  ocv.aiio.;'*  lor  n.  i  k  .ow  not  how  Mr.  Skni- 
peany,  who  has  an  ajnirtmcnc  m  the  noi.fe  wheie  I 


MORALITY. 


edge,  heard  of  it:  but  it  is  about  fix  months  fince  he 
cime  into  my  room,  and  aflced  whether  1  could  lend' 
iim  an  hundred  pounds  ?  faying,  thai  he  iliouid  iofc  a 
;rcat  advantage  in  trade,  if  he  had  not  th:it  fum  to 
o;nplcte  a  payment :  he  added,  that  he  woidd  give 
ue  a  note  for  it ;  and,  at  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  a  year, 
vould  pay  me  the  money  with  many  thanks,  I  <Ud  not 
!ven  fuppofe  that  I  had  any  reafon  to  fear  being  be- 
raycd  by  a  man  who  had  more  guineas  than  I  had 
jence.    I  gave  him  the  money,  and  he  gave  me  a  note  ; 

put  this  liote  into  my  bureau,  and  thought  my  money 
n  good  hands. 

But  what  do  you  fuppofe  has  happened  ?  Three 
noaths  paffed  away  ;  another  and  another  followed  it, 
ladlvlr.  Skinpenny  did  hot  appear  to  think  of  paying 
rie.  At  lalt  I  reminded  him.  Woman  !  replied  he 
lailily,  do  you  dream,  or  are  you  mad?  What,  I  bor- 
■ow  a  hundred  pounds  of  you?  not  a  hundred  pence 
lave  I  feen  of  your's  ;  I  believe  you  are  joking  with 
ue.  I  replied,  you  have  fo  much  bufniefs  in  your 
lead,  that  probably  you  have  forgotten  this  trifle  ; 
)ut  I  Vv  ill  fliew  you  yoifr  note. — Yes,  faid  he,  when  I 
ee  that,  I  will  readily  believe  you.  I  ran  up  to  my 
•00.11,  opened  my  bureau,  but  not  a  note  could  I  fee. 
^  feurched  throughout  every  part  of  it,  through  every 
:orner  of  the  room  ;  but  no  note  could  I  findv 

What  could  a  poor  woman  do  ?  I  went  to  a  relation 
)f  my  deceafed  hulband,  who  is  an  attorney,  and  told 
lim  of  my  diFlrefs.  He  advifed  me  to  bring  the  alfair 
nuo  a  coi  rt  of  julbce,  oiiered  to  take  my  cauie  in  hand. 
Hid  added,  that  he  v^^ould  certainly  make  Mr.  Skin- 
lenny  pay  me.  But  this  buiinefs  has  been  going  on 
or  foine  time,  without  my  being  able  to  guefs  how  it 
•vili  end  ;  and  has  already  dra^wn  from  me  all  the  little 
iioaey  I  had  left.  To~uiorrow  it  is  to  be  determined; 
md  Mr.  Skinpenny  will/wear  that  I  did  not  lend  him 
jibe  morxcy.  Think  of  this  man,  who  will  advance  be- 
fore the  cowrt,  and  venture  to  fay,  that  he  will  re- 
lounce  the  biciling  of  God;  n.iy,  that  he  wiilies  he 
may  puniih  hiai  if  he  recei\  ed  the  gold  from  me^  whea 


214 


ELEMENTS    O  F- 


he  knows  very  well  that  he  did.  What  a  'A'icked 
niaa  !  my  bl<)od  runs  cold  when  I  think  of  it.  If  he 
fwears,  i  (liail  not  only  lofe  my  money,  and  have  to 
pay  the  colh  of  the  fiht ;  but  be  reckoned  a  cheat  by 
thole  who  are  not  thoroughly  acqnainted  with  mf 
chLirad.r. — I,  j'oor  wiiiow,  have  no  proof  of  my  ia- 
noce':..e,        that  God  ivho  h^^'jVJs  all  I 

iVir.  aiid  Mrs.  Jones  lincerely  piiied  her.  It  is,  faid 
Mr.  Jones,  a  difagrceable  b-dincis  ;  I  know^  not  wiiat 
advice  to  give  yon;  if  the  man  f./tia-:;,  the  ir.oney  i& 
loif  ;  but  do  Hot  let  your  coi.ra^c  hnk,  my  clear  iVIa- 
dam.  The  all-feeiiig'God  is  indeed,  as  you  fay,  your 
witnefs;  he  knows  that  you  lent  the  money,  and  that 
you  received  a  note  from  the  mifer  ;  and  he  will  cer- 
tainly one  day  brmg  your  innocence  to  light.  This, 
faid  Mrs.  Sandford,  is  my  only  comfort  ;  if  I  had  not 
this  I  fhonld  fmk  under  fuch  a  Vv-eight  of  forrov/s. 

While  flie  was  fpeaking  thi'.s,  fome  one  knocked  vio-" 
lently  at  the  door,  and  entered  before  they  could  guefs 
who  it  was.  It  was  a  girl  wlio  had  run  herfelf  quite 
out  of  breath.  Is  ?vlrs.  Sandford  here?  aiked  ihc; 
then  preceiving  her,  ihe  faid,  is  it  true  that  you  have 
a  law-fuit  with  Mr.  Skinpenny  ;  anti  does  he  intend  ta 
fwear  to-morrow  that  he  never  received  any  money  of 
you.^  Be  eafy,  things  will  not  go  on  fmoothly  ;  hcre^, 
here  is  his  note  !— he  has  torn  it.  to  be  fur?  ;  but  ie 
may  Itill  be  read.  You  will  prbabiy  v.  iih  to  know  hcW- 
I  got  it;  I  will  foon  tell  you. 

You  may  remember  that  I  lived  fome  time  ago  as  3- 
fervanc  in  the  houfe  where  you  lodge.  One  day, 
when  you  weut  out  with  your  daughters,  I  wac  put-, 
ting  fome  things  to  rights  in  a  little  clofet  on  the  fame^ 
floor  with  your  apartment;  Mr.  Skinpenny  came  fofciy 
lip  lhairs,  opened  yoLT  door,  and  went  up  to  your  bu- 
reau, with  a  key  in  his  hand  ;  I  was  alloniihed  to  fee 
him  enter — to  think  that  a  man,  whom  1  knew  to  be- 
fo  rich,  Ihould  turn  thief!  and  waited  where  I  Hood, 
till  he  came  out — He  did  not  m.ake  mc  wait  long;  he 
foon  came  out  with  a  piece  of  paper  in  his  hand,  and 
fhut  the  door  very  carefully  afier  him.    This  made  me 


MORALITY. 


very  curious  to  know  what  he  had  been  doing  in  your 
room  ;  and  as  loon  as  he  had  returned  into  his  own,  I 
crept  fofily  down  rtairs,  peeped  through  they  key-hole, 
and  law  him  tear  the  paper,  and  throw  it  into  a  clofet 
amongli  fome  orher  waite  papers,  which  he  generally 
burnt  in  the  evening  when  he  had  a  light.  Now, 
thought  I,  I  have  I'een  enough.  At  night  when  I 
made  his  bed,  and  lighted  his  candle,  I  bufied  myfelf 
for  fometiuie  about  the  room,  and  when  he  turned  his 
back  for  a  moment,  I  fnatched  up  the  paper,  and  was 
half  dead  with  fear,  when  I  faw  that  the  man  had  been, 
(b  wicked  as  to  Ikal  a  note  which  he  had  given  you  as 
an  acknowledgment  of  a  debt.  I  wilhed  to  have- 
told  you  of  it  immediately,  but  you  know  when  one 
has  one's  bread  to  get,  it  is  neceflary  to  be  careful;  I 
was  afraid  that  my  miifrefs  would  turn 'me  away  for 
diibbhging  her  lodger,  and  I  did  not  know  what  Aeps 
he  might  take  to  wreck  his  vengeance  on  me,  fo  I  re- 
folved  to  lock  k  up  fafe  in  my  trunk, 
i  I  was  foon  after  fent  for  to  vific  my  poor  fick  mother, 
and  quite  forgot  the  affair,  till  I  heard,  this  morning, 
of  your  law-fuit.  I  then  ran  quickly  to  my  trunk, 
and  found  the  note  where  I  had  left  it,  and  was  as  glad 
as  if  I  had  found  twenty  pounds.  Here,  take  it,  and 
hold  it  to-morrow  under  the  old  cheat's  noie,  I  will 
be  in  court  myfelf,  and  declare  all  I  know  of  the  mat- 
ter. 

It  may  be  eafily  conceived  how  good  Mrs.  Sandford 
was  aftected,  when  Ihe  faw  herfeif  fuddenly  delivered 
from  all  her  troubles,  by  the  honei^y  of  this  girl. 
Trembling,  Ihe  railed  her  hands  towards  heaven,  and 
faid  0  God^  who  knowefi  all  things^  how  wonderfully  haft 
thou  brought  my  innocence^  a?id  this  man's  wickidnefs^ 
to  light  1  O  God,  who  knoweft  all  things,  added  Mr. 
Jones,  thou  art  the  witnefs  of  all  our  actions  !  happy 
would  it  be  for  us,  if  we  always  thought  of  thy  divine 
prefence,  and  conllantly  did  jullice  ;  fo  wouldft  thou 
one  day  make  our  honei\y  appear,  either  in  this 
world  or  a  better.  He  afterwards  praifed  the  girl's 
honePcy,  and  encouraged  her  to  relate  lirmly,  in  the 


2.16 


£  L  E  M  E  N  T  'S  OF 


court,  what  fhe  had  feen  and  then  went  hlajfelf  with 
her  to  the  couufcfllor,  and  told  him  the  difcovery  which 
they  had  made  by  her  means.  * 
He  teltified  hisjoy,  hke  a  human  man,  at  tUis^  iu- 
telhgence,  and  promifed  that  the  innocent  Mrs, 
Sandford  fiiouldhave  ample  jnftice  done  her  the  follow- 
ing day. 

At  the  hour  appointed  Mrs.  Sandford  was  ready 
with  a  cheerful  face ;  and  'Mr.  Jones  alio  M'ent  into 
court  to  fee  what  turn  this  aiihir  would  cahe.  Mr. 
Skinpenny  appeared  with  a  confufcd  counter..'::..  ar.d 
the  Judge  alked  him  if  he  flill  perliifcd  to  deny  thst  he 
had  borrowed  any  money  of  ?vlrs.  Sandford  ? 

Yes,  was  his  anfwer ;  J  did  not  want  money  =  aiid 
if  I  had,  I  certainly  ihouid  no:  have  tnoaghi  of  iip- 
plying  to  f;ich  a  poor  woman. 

The  Judge  then  aiked  him,  if  he  v/ould  take  his^ 
.oath. 

"ies,  aiiTwered  he,  with  a  nrm  voice. 

The  counfellor  then  jhewed  him  his  .  (fart- 
ed back  at  the  fio-ht,  as  if  he  had  bee  :  with 
lia^ncning  ;  however,  he  recollected  LimiClf  ni  a  mi- 
nute,  and  faid  it  v=  as  a  forgery,  and  that  he  would 
fwear  that  he  had  not  written  it.  But  when  the  niald 
Nvas  called,  who  told  him  to  his  f[ice  in  what  manner 
he  had  llolen  the  note  out  of  Mrs.  Sandford's  room,  he  i 
.could  no  longer  deny  it, 

The  Judge  then  gave  a  charge  to  the  J'^iry,  who, 
without  going  out  of  court,  pronounced  him  guilty  ; 
and  he  was  condemned  to  pay  her  the  money,  and 
damages  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred  pounds,  befide- 
the  coits. 

Mr.  Skinpenny  would  have  preferred  a  prifon  to 
parting  v/ith  fo  much  money  ;  but  when  he  recolle6led 
himfeif,  he  gave  it,  as  if  he  had  .been  parting  with  fo 
much  of  his  heart's  blood. 

It  is  eafy  to  conceive  v>'hat  anguilh  it  muft  have  coft' 
hmi,  who  groaned  when  he  was  obliged  to  part  with 
a  penny.  All  thofe  who  were  in  court  fuicereiy  re- 
joiced that  God  had  brought  to  light  a  crime  that  had 


M  O  R  A  L  I  T  Y.  £17 

been  fo  cunningly  concealed.  Afterwards  Mrs.  Sand- 
ford  gave  ten  guineas  to  the  girl,  as  a  reward  for  her 
honeity.  w  hich  11:6  bad  feme  diiiiculty  to  make  her  ac- 
cept. 


CHAP  T  E  K  XLin. 


WHEN  Mr.  Jones  returned  home,  he  found  a 
poor  woman  who  had  already  waited  for  hitn 
above  half  an  hour.  She  moi^  earnelUy  entreated  him 
to  viiit  old  Martin,  one  of  his  weaver  ,  becaufe  he  had 
been  treated  very  inhumanly  by  his  fon,  v.'ho  had  left 
him  to  ftarve  in  a  garret.  What  I  a  fon  let  a  father 
-die  with  hunger?  afl-^ed  Mr.  Jones,  quite  fhocked  y 
and,  without  laying  a  word  more,  he  folio  v.- ed  the 
woman,  who  conducted  him  to  the  poor  man. 

After  having  mounted  up  three  pair  of  flairs,  he 
found  him  in  the  moft  wretched  Hate  :  old  age  had  ren- 
dered him  fo  infirm,  that  he  was  unable  to  get  oi;t  of 
his  bed  ;  and  this  bed  fcarcely  deferved  the  name  of  one, 
for  it  only  confilfed  of  rags  and  a  few  old  ciilhions, 
with  not  more  than  a  handful  or  two  of  feathers  in 
theai.  What  !  do  you  come  yourfelf  ?  cried  the 
wrecched  grey-headed  man,  as  foon  as  he  difcovered 
him.  Ah  !  will  you  help  me  ?  You  fee  now  how- 
cruelly  my  gracelefs  fon  has  treated  me  !  I  gave  him 
my  houfe,  with  only  this  condition,  that  he  ihould 
maintain  me  till  ray  death  ;  but  no  fooner  had  he  the 
houfe  fecure,  than  he  ufed  me  like  a  dog  ;  he  turned 
me  out  of  my  own  room,  and  only  allows  me  this  mif- 
erable  garret,  where  I  am  almoit  frozen  with  cold — he 
eats  with  his  wife  every  day  good  roaft  or  boiled  meat, 
and  only  fends  me  bread  and  cheefe,  or  fome  cold 
fcraps ;  and,  as  if  this  were  not  enoi'gh,  1  am  often 
obliged  to  wait  till  three  or  fo..r  o'clock  betore  I  can 
get  a.  morfel ;  and  when  he  brings  me  fomethiug;  he 
ogives  it  me  with  the  inoil  cutting  words  j  he  has  evea 

T 


2l8 


ELEMENTS  OF 


faid,  that  he  is  tired  of  me —  that  he  co.iIJ  not  any 
lo:'ger  n.aie  iiie — :hai:  I  had  hved  long  ei;o<:;^h — and 
that  it  was  thne  that  i  ihoAd  leave  the  VvorKi.  Uh  1 
Mr.  Jones  it  is  hard  to  hear  f.  ch  things  from  a  chili" 
whom  1  ha\'e  carefwlly  hrought  up  from  his  infancy, 
and  piu  in  a  way  to  eary  an  honeit  livelihood.. 

Mr.  jo.^es  trenVnled  in  e\  ery  limb  when  he  heard 
this.  1  could  not  have  believed  that  there  was  a  moii- 
ikr  in  the  world,  with  fuch  a  hard  heart,  faid  he, 
as  to  abandon  a  father,  who  had  been  careful  to  nou- 
rilli  and  educate  him  d.-ring  his  childhood  DeGre  the 
man  to  come  \ip  here,  coicinued  he,  angrily,  to  the 
woman  v^ho  had  condiicled  him. 

He  came  r.p  with  a  Icrocioi^.s  look,  and  Mr.  Jones 
aflced  him,  very  folemnly,  w  hether  he  was  not  afraid 
that  God  vvould  puniih  liim  for  leaving  his  father,  his 
greatell  benefactor,  in  want  and  ibrrow  ^  Why,  re* 
plied  the  rude  man,  I  have  children  of  my  own  tolV.p^ 
port,  and  I  iiave  enoigh  to  do  to  procure  them  bread  ; 
I  know  not  vvlierc  it  k  to  coine  from,  if  this  old  i;ian 
nr.iit  always  have  Ibme  uainiy  to  devour  ;  indeed  it  is 
iinpofrible  for  any  man  to  bear  wlcli  him.  Vv^hen  he  ig 
in  our  room  he  finds  fault  with  every  thing  ;  iomctimes 
he  fcolds  about  this,  fometimes  about  that.  I  do  noti 
like  to  ha\  e  in  my  houfe  fach  a  noife  and  vexation  ;  |^ 
will  be  mailer  here. 

The  old  man  interrnpted  Thomas,  faying,  Thomas, 
v.'hnj;  are  you  talking  about  Do  you  not  know  thap 
the  hoide  is  mine  ?  Have  I,  your  father,  deferved  this 
of  yon  ? 

"\Ve]l,  what  right  have  yon  to  fay  fo  much  ?  an- 
fwered  th^  hard-henried  n^an  ;  you  did  not  ufe  your 
father  much  better  ;  for  oi-r  neighboiirs  have  not  fail-; 
ed  to  tell  me  what  an  u  idutiful  fon  you  were  in 
your  youth.  Do  you  Piili  recoiled  how  you  gathered 
the  fcrapes  from  yo  ^r  tab^e  for  your  poor  father,  which 
other  people  gave  to  their  dogs.-^ 

They  grey-headed  man  trembled  with  remorfe  when 
lie  heard  thefe  bitter  reproaches,  and  groaned  out,  0 
GocII—mii  artjujl  I 


M  O  Fx  A  L  I  T  Y. 


Mr.  Jones  then  .uefired  this  ungrateful  Ton  to  leave 
the  rooQi,  and  afked  the  old  man  whether  the  accufati- 
o;i  which  his-  foa  had  hroi>ght  agaiail  hiin  ^^  as  true? 
A  i\rt?.m  of  tears  ilarted  from  his  eyes  at  the  q\  eihon. 
Ah,  woe  is  me  !  anfwered  he,  they  are  but  too  trne  ! 
I  had  alfo  my  old  father  in  my  ho-.fe,  and  becai.fe  he 
for  fome  years  lay  bed  ridden,  and  could  no  longer 
earn  any  thing,  I  was  weary  of  fupporting  him,  aiid. 
indeed  often  let  him  fulFer  v.*  ant — a  ad,  oh  !  I  now  re- 
member that  1  fometmies  i.fed  very  hard  words  when 
I  fpoke  to  the  old  man,  my  faUier.  Here,  upon  thefe 
Hocks,  where  I  lie,  he  alio  laid  for  three  years,  till  he 
died  in  the  greateit  mifery. —  ies,  now  1  fee  that  my 
i  behavi'our  to  my  poor  old  father  defcrvcd  this  paniih- 
ment. 

Unhappy  man,  f;iid  Mr.  Jones,  how  could  you  be 
fo  cruel  as  to  abandon  yonr  father?  Did  yon  never 
think  hovj  much  trouble  he  had  with  you  in  your  in- 
fancy ?  Did  ycm  not  know  then  that  Gog  fees  all, 
and  that  he  is  jull  ?  That  he  rewards  the  t;ood,  and 
pmiiihes  the  wdcked  here,  or  hereafter?  Could  you 
^xped  your  fon  to  becoa)e  good,  when  you  yourfelf 
were  Vv'icked?  See  in  all  this  the  jallice  of  God-— 
bear  patiently  with  the  punil^ment  you  ha\  e  deferved, 
and  pray  to  God  to  have  mercy  ou  you  ;  mean  while 

•  I  v.iil  endeavoLir  to  foftea  your  mifery  as  much  as  I  can 
— here  is  half  a  guinea  ;  get  fomething  to  cheer  you, 
and  I  will  goto  your  fon,  and  adviie  him  to  a6t  more 
like  a  man  ; — and  if  you  ihew  by  your  patience  that 
you  truly  repent,  God  may,  perhaps,  fofc^n  your  pu- 
nilhment.  Saying  fo,  ?vlr.  Jones  left  the  old  man, 
whofe  tears  flow-ed  fall  as  he  begged  Gcd  to  pardon  him, 

!  and  went  to  feek  for  his  fon. 

;  He  fpoke  very  forcibly  'to  him;  and  aCced  v/hether 
'  he  did  not  hope  to  live  to  be  old  ?  and  whether  he  did 

not  fear  that  his  children  might  treat  him,  in  the  days 
I  of  his  weaknefs,  as  he  now  treated  \iis  old  father? 

He. -added,  that  the  God  v.  ho  now  punifned  his  father's 

lins,  world  alfo,  in  his  own  time,  certainly  punifh  him. 

For  of  thii  he  ojght  to  convinced,  liiice  no  mail  could 
T  2 


2:20 


E  L  E  M  E  r^T  T  S  OF 


efcape  the  cheadifment  of  the  all- wife  and  juft  God; 
a^Hl  -'.vn 2"  ihll  wni- Iv^  continued,  that  if  he 
'  :'i7  ciay  ,  okl  father  into  a  warm 

«■■•  ■••    ■   '       —  -•  a  c---od  bed,  and  fufficicnt 

■      ■•■  ■  hv:: .  :  .  ■■  .-.w .  lie  would  take  no  more 

iioiicc  c-:  liiiu,  a>ra  .vc'.  er  give  him  any  more  employ- 
nic  it  ;  lor  ii  a  Li.m  could  be  lb  wicked  as  to  be  im- 
r  his  parents,  he  Oionld  never  exped  him  to 

ay  towards  other  men.    Thele  v.crds  were 
d  thunder- clap  to  tiie  hard  heart  of  thefon, 
a::-..    .^.rii-enc-  '  '  >  * 'i ro  a  promife,  thai  he  would  be- 
have bcucr  i.^  ■  .r  in  future. 

liicicc-.i  the  fate  of  the  miferahle  wretch 
V  jVir.  joncs  oficn  enquired  aficr  him, 

and  .  :eard  that  he  was  no  longer  hjrrt red  to 

want  .;  ..i-ng,  tlvv;  his  heart  was  torn  by  the 
keeaeil  remorle  I'c.  ...     .  ...ment  of  hi&  lather. 


C  Ii  A  P  T  E  R  XLIV. 


^  i  ^  H  E  weather,  towards  the  end  of  February,  af- 
ter  the  hard  v*'intcr,  became  very  ufdd; — the  fiui 
began  to  Ihine — warm  winds  to  blow — and  the  fnow~ 
to  rnclc  away.     Charles  and  Mary  faw  with  mnch 

plcafvre  liow  the  earih,  and  che  tiles,  v^lru:h  till  theii 
hud  b-wC-.:  all  w  hiie,  now  1  e;  'n  to  fhew  their  own  colours, 
'I'jicv  i)elieveu  ilia:  ihj  ]iuiugwas  certainly  coining 
—  1  i;uy  actually  coulu'cr^d  how  they  Ihould  alter 
their  f.t^u  garden — what  they  ihould  fbw  and  plant 
in  it — -.uuJ  .uready  began  to  gather  the  feeds  together,' 
which  they  intended  lo  low  in  their  little  Lt(L. 

But  as,  during  the  winter,  an  unidual  quantity  of 
iiiov/  had  fallen,  which  the  i\.dden  warmih  of  the  wea- 
ther dii!bl\  c.i,  it  co"^ered  all  die  Hekls  hke  a  lea,  and 
the  mo  iiune:!  earth  could  rot  rcatlily  imbibe  fuch  an 
I  ■  '  '  u  ;'e  of  water.  Torrents  ran  from  all  the 
iu-^...:u.u.j.^  .  v>  ell  in  g  the  Severn  till  it  overliowed  its. 


MORALITY. 


22  r 


!  banks,  and  fpread  defolation  over  the  whole  country. 
Ic  was  a  Jreadfr.i  flood  ! 

j  It  may  be  frppofed  that  ?vlr.  Jones'  family  were  in 
I  pain  for  their  beautifid  garden^  which  lay  on  the 
banks  of  this  river.  Charles  and  Mary  were  continu- 
ally peeping  out  to  fee  ho\v  farihc  w  aters  were  come. 
*tVhen  ihey  v/ent  to  bed  one  night,  the  ikeani  feeined 
to  be  as  high  as  the  bank  ;  but  in  the  nicrning  the 
maid  came  inco  the  roo:n  with  the  fad  news,  that  tli- 
whole  o;ardc;i  was  under  v-aicr, 

Al  the  fame  time,  they  hecird  from  all  Tides  com- 
plain :s  of  the  devaitation  which  the  v.  ?ucrs  had  made. 
One  man  fpoke  of  the  bridges,  mills,  and  hoiifes,  that 
had  been  carried  av/ay;  of  the  trees  which  had  been 
torn  lip  b;^  the  roous,  an-d  of  the  men  that  had  been 
drovv'ned.  Thefe  accoimts  ca^vfed  great  trouble  in 
Mr.  Jones  fa-nily  ;  he  vv'as  forry  for  his  garden,  hut 
Rid  more  fo  for  the  cahappy  v/retches,  who  by  this 
intuidatlon  had  proha!):y' lolt  all  their  property.  Mary 
rC'^rected  her  auriculas,  and  Chnrlt^s  was  in  pain  for 
hia  beds  of  caboagcs.  Mrs.  Jones  thought  of  the  lit- 
tle fnniner  lio.iie  v/hich  iiad  been  b-jiit  only  a  few 
years  at  fo  ae  little  diilanc  fro.n  the  r.vcr,  and  Ihs 
feared,  widi  reafon,  tliai:  tlie  water  had  carried  jt  a- 
W'ay, 

Slia  had  fcarcely  mei"itioaed  the  fummer-honfe, 
when  Mr.  joiics  clafpcci  Ins  hands  widi  terror,  and 
fald,  where  is  hoiieil  Henry?  our  poor  Henry— What 
is  becii'.ie  of  him?  He  midt  be  drowned,  or  he  will 
die  of  h-a^er.  Tb^ey  were  all  Ihocked,  and  faid  poor 
He^n-y  1  How  co.  ld  wefo  entirely  forget  him?  Vv  hat 
iin  ilt  we  do?  Ho^v  ihall  we  refcce  him  1 

Frnb  1.1. tin.,  find  i  -Ir.  Jo  ies  to  ms  ferva  its,  this 
in'da  .t  ran  co  a  vracei-man.  and  beti  him,  with  fome  of 
hib  men.  ro  go  iii  a  boac  to. lave  Henry,  ai-.d  1  will 
gladly  pay  h<.A  whatever  he  af^s. 

Tne  ierva^it  weiu.  but  Mr.  jones  was  fo  anxious, 
thac  nc  lo  Id  noc  reninii  behind;  he  ran  hinjfelf  after 
the  iervanc^  and  foon  ei;oa,:ed  a  watennan.  by  the. 

1'  3^ 


ELEMENTS  OF 


'  ■  V.      h  lienf}'  ik:'':,  and  ha-: 
^  ■  ■  -     \     vVhen  ihey  Ca.i:e  n^ar^ 

'     ,  o  :t  of  the  windosv,  extcnd- 

:  u.     They  then  rccio;  : 
^  -      -  .   —    oened  vhe  boat  to  the  hw 

i--p  to  ii\      :  iiiight  de- 

—   -  .  '  cai  :;!]t  :     ,    .        To^e,  fa{\- 

ei:.:/d  ic  to        w  ' -iv'.ovv,  aad  Hipped  c-owa. 

As  ico.i       lie  ca:>.ie  into  the  bo:'    b-  '  d  upon  his 
bnec:^,  a:i.;i  <.nr  J  or-t,  0  T-c//,  T.fy^'  cry.i.palfhn- 
•  •'  "  ■  ■■■  '  ■    ■  f-rayer  I  'inen  he  role,  and 
:  •  .,  :  -c:  pco';ie  \v ho  were  v\  1th  him 
'  ,  ior  their  takca  fuch  care  to  hr-e  his 

A :'!■:•(■  V arc's  Mr.  :  ^r^d  hini  how  he  felt  wbea 

^'  ■  A  '    'd  ^  ^  r:;  L  (i  ii:'j;er  ? 

nt  i  iiioijld  fbon  the  with 
terror,     i'ei  .  ;  i  lay  qiiierly  down  to  reh  ; 

I'u  !.;.^i"!  C:\'  h:  -      .  ■    ch  V,  v/bcri  I  b  .:^:ird  a  ih^k- 

•  ill  !uy  r  .  inhered  a- 

..  :!i  :  iioifc  M>.i     : .  _  ^      : ,  i  i        ~  i:  inroad 
awalic  ;  i'i\A^:i;b   ■         b;:,;-cr  in  i.e-,  y  o;.t^ 

'  '  ■  "    ■    :  . .    1  caii- 

3  .       ^     Ay  f..a:Ai- 

i.e  waier  tiil  I  cauie 
t    1        .  L      .:r  rooiii  wbere  you 

and  d-A.:  r      c  Ainnier.    Bat  what  did  I 

adv^i  v;ar  A  .0  _  ;  d  \  :.:  \\  irid  ra^ed  ayaiail  the  win- 
dow:;, riid  wA  '  -  d  -  ':.  :^h  the  ho  le ;  die  waters 
i]j:::de  uich  a  drcauAl  no  lie  that  I  baipetted  nothing 
leA  than  that  the  gronnd  woakl  give  way  under  me. 
7dhls  morning,  aboai  hve  o'clock,  tlie  water  entered 
the  upper  room,  then  I  ga  e  myfeifi'p  for  loft.  It  ap- 
pcu-ed  cer'iain  that  1  Ihorld  periiliby  hiuiger  or  water 


MORALITY. 


Athftl  thai^ght  that. God  was  with  me,  and  at  the 
fame  inonient  i  be^an  thus  to  pray  to  Him  :  gracions 
God  j  Thou  hait  already  prcierved  me  fifty  years  in 
this  world  :  Thou  hall  ^ranted  me  many  blelliags 
which  I  ought  to  thank  Thee  for  ;  and  Thou  wii:  not 
even  now  abandon  me:  fave  me,  if  I  can  be  of  any  vSe 
in  the  world — -it  is  very  eafy  to  Thee.  But  if  it  be 
Thy  will  that  I  ihorild  now  quit  the  world — behold 
me — here  I  am — my  God  !  I  am  content.  Thou  art 
my  dear  Father,  and  I  am  Thy  child.  I  mult  iubmic 
to  whatever  Thou  thinkeft  fit — Do  with  me  vvhat 
Thou  wilt  ! — It  muR  be  good,  if  it  come  from  Thee. 
— i  cannot  exprefs  to  you,  Sir,  how  comfortably  1  felt 
after  this  prayer  :  fuch  a  pieifant  hour  have  I  not  had 
for  a  great  while.  I  ft^lt,  throi-.gh  my  whole  fouJ,  that 
1  vx'as  near  God,  and  my  fear  vaniJlied.  I  aimoit  died 
with  joy  when  I  thought,  ihould  my  gracious  God 
le;ive  me  to  die.  He  mul\  know  that  death  is  better  fur 
me  than  life.  After Vvards  I  ftood  upon  the  chair  on 
which  I  had  been  fittirrg,  and  faid,  once  more,  che*=r- 
f'jlly,  "xes,  gracioos  God,  I  am  here,  Do  with  mc 
what  feemeii  beft  in  Thy  light  Then  I  went  to  the 
win  dow,  looked  oiu,  and  faw  nothing  but  wacer  a- 
round  me,  for  no  living  foiJ  could  I  fee.  For  about 
three  quarters  of  an  hovr  did  I  look  around — my 
tho  ughts,  frill  turned  to  God.  When  I  difcovered  a 
boat,  and  faw  that  it  rowed  towards  me,  it  feemed  to 
ir.i  ;  5  li  God  himfelf  were  coming — for  i  firmly  believ- 
ed, i;v;c.r  mailer,  that  God  fent  you  to  me. 

i\lv.  Jones  praifed  Henry's  behaviour,  and  aff-jred 
him  that  an  ardent  prayer  was  the  bell  means  to  pro- 
cure us  comfort  in  trouble,  and  courage  in  danger. 
He  added,  that  as  foon  as  a  man  prayed  to  God  he 
mi  ii  think  of  Him  ;  and  when  he  thought  that  he  had 
fuch  a  good  Mailer,  b..ch  a  tender  Father, he  would  be 
brought  into  inch  a  frame  of  mind  as  not  to  fear  any 
thing.  For  when  we  reiign  oi  rfelves  entirely  to 
God's  pleaii;re,  not  preuuning  to  point  out,  in  the 
llighteli  v/ay,  what  He  fi^o-'dd  do  wi'h  us,  but  firmly 
rely  on  Hia]_,  \viio  made  us^  He  wiJ  at  all  times  pro- 


±74 


ELEMENTS  OF 


v'aie  what  is  befl  for  us.  This  I  have  very  often  ex- 
perienced, added  he,  and  prayer  has  frequendy  cu.n- 
forced  me,  when  in  the  deepeit  alHiflion. 

U I. ring  this  coaverfacion,  the  boat  had  croITed  the 
water.  Mr.  Jones  paid  the  waterriraii  ^  ery  generour- 
iy,  a^-.d  took  lienry  v/ith  hiui  home.  A  tumuk  of  jov' 
rofe  in  the  ho*jfe  when  he  appeared.  They  bropght 
him  into  a  warm  bed  chanfbcr,  and  Mrs.  Jones  ran 
hcrk.';f  to  bri'.;V  Hun  fonie  broth.  The  feryant  g^ave 
h.ui  dry  ciojhcs,  arid  the  chiliren  ft  a  ted  themleives 
by  hi.n,  and  ber;ged  him  to  tell  tiiern  what  he  had  re- 
lated to  their  father. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


A    T  the  end  of  tv/o  day?,  the  miter  returned 
back  ii.co  ics  channel.    Ti^-l.'  iii'r'J-J.ay  a  lu'ong 
wind  blew,  which  dried  theearca  io  q. relay,  thiit  Oii 
the  fourth  Mr.  jo.'Cs  co-sui  tr'.r  Mr  ch-k'ren  iaio  the 
garden  ;  b     tiirre  ihry  o  d  /  .  .'  .r.c  \va  ie  ;  the 

water  had  carried  away  a»i  i-ic  iv-v  p'arts  a.  d  <.  ood 
ground,  and  left  a  quantity  of  r..bi{]i  ard  fa.-.d  be- 
hind :  fo;nc  trees  were  torne  i^p  by  the  rojus,  and 
many  that  were  Railed  to  the  vr.-U  vrere  bro:-:ea  down  : 
the  fvunmer  iio.wc  vvrr  \  c r /  ni  ri  ;  o.dy  by 

the   \vacer,  b.  t         n  ^  f  .  :  fridge. 


thev 


,  r, :rc'.'er 

IojVcL  .  '  r].  The 

chiid-'en  \  '   ■  :    '  '        : :  . -:r  inj  ry 

whiv-ii  '..  . ,  J  o.-.ieo  al'o  iooK- 

c:i  '  :  r  r.  r:  'hi-  r-,-.  I  civ 

y  .        I      .      .       ;are  ;)i).v   io  -        y  h.iJ  this 

-    'v-i-      !     ,    :  .c   li)  :re"   ...an  ,oi;r 
.■:  .  iia  e  bi.'c.i  e^ipioy - 
_      r..    .    .        t  r>        :  It.—a.id 
.  .■  ■  ■ 

Cv\-.       .-u  .  .ar.;  d....  .i..d  iur :  .  .i. -ir.  an  hrnU.i-l 


MORALITY. 


125 


'men  have  laboured  at  it.  All  this,  in  lefs  than  two 
,  days,. has  GocUevelled  with  the  ground.  What,  in 
this  country,  has  been  brought  to  ibine  degree  of  per- 
fedion,  by  thoufands  of  men,  in  a  cowrie  of  years^ 
i  He  has  in  a  moment, 'as  it  w  ere,  delb*oyed.  And  do 
you  know  by  what  means  He  has  done  all  this?  By 
iimple  flakes  of  fnow,  which  He  made  fall  from  the 
clouds,  and  afterwards  become  waler.  Vvhat  He  will 
He  can  do  !  He  has  MOt  only  the  flakes  of  fnow  under 
;  His  command  ;  but  all  that  the  univerfe  contains  mui\ 
'  do  His  will.  With  the  fmalell:  things  he  can  prod.-.ce 
the  greattlt  effecis.  What,  in  companion  with  man, 
is  a  caterpillar  ?  neverthelefs,  when  He  caufes  thefe 
infeds  to  multiply  abundantly.  He  can,  by  their 
means,  delh'oy  the  trees  of  a  whole  country.  What 
is  nnaller  than  a  drop  of  blood  ?  yet,  when  it  does 
not  circulate  through  my  body,  but  becomes  corrupt, 
it  will  foon  kill  me.  A  fmgle  fpark  of  lire,  if  it  fell 
into  combufiible  matter,  in  a  few  houi*5  might  burn 
oiir  whole  city  to  allies  ;  but  all  thefe  things  are  un- 
der the  diredlon  of  God  ?  for  by  thofe  fame  rays  of 
the  fun,  by  thofe  fame  drops  of  water  which  fall  from 
the  clouds.  He  can  in  a  Ihort  time  produce  fuch  an 
immenfe  quantity  of  vegetaferres,  fruits ^nd  grain,  that 
mdiions  of  men  and  animals  are  fupportetf  by  them, 
without  coiifuming  all.  My  dear  children,  tiie  God 
who  can  do  ail  thefe  things  is  your  father  and  friei^d, 
and  as  long  as  5  0U  ad  properly.  He  will  never  employ 
His  power,  but  to  do  you  good  ;  you  may  live  lafely 
'  under  His  Vv'ing,  if  you  avoid  evil. 

But,  dear  nuher,  faid  Mary,  I  am  not  a  wicked 
cliild  ;  why  has  the  good  God  dsftroyed  my  auriculas,^ 
and  you,  who  are  inch  a  good  father,  why  has  Hj 
laid  your  garden  wafte  ^ 

You  believe  that  I  am  a  good  father,  anfweredMr. 
Jones,  neverthelefs  I  do  many  things  which  yon  do 
not  like.  I  often  do  not  let  you  go  into  company, 
where  you  deiire  to  be — I  have  often  taken  fi'om  you 
playthings,  which  gave  you  pleafure.  You  do  not 
always  know  why,  yet  you  think  me  a  good  father. 


±26 


E  L  E  M  E      T  G    C  F 


It  is  the  fame  with  God  ;  lie  does  iiui^iy  things  \vlii;a 
vo  j.  do  lioc  lihe.  b.  i:  He  is  as  lar  i\:r;n  (if  h -  liivir  to 
iiijrre  yo.i  as  1  aji,  wnea  i  loai^ ci.xi.;-;  '^ai^c  away  ycr 
playihirgs. 

Gooi  morning,  Mr.  Jones,  good  nr^^^\^\g  i  ^-ood 
moraing,  my  dear  ch.idreo,  cried  .a  \"o  :e  l"  (i.;e:?iy  : 
they  tur.:;e J  quickly  roMx^d,  a..  J  law —  cs.  ih?v'  ia-.v 
the'.r  old  friend  'the  Curare.  Mr,  jj.ico  ca.;^:^Lr  u.ie 
haiid,  the  children  the  cc  :r. 

Oh  I  faid  the  CuraL'e,  yo..r  rarde.i  prcTi^ir:-.  a  very 
nielancholly  profpecl,  b^^t  ni  ;,e  is  IVdi  worie.  My 
poor  garden  is  q  ate  de;lro  .  ed liv  irccs  corn  rp — - 
my  wad  thrown  down — a. id  che  wnole  h.rlace  cover- 
ed with  land  and  i tones. 

Ha\'e  your  apple..  a''b  l''  '.:ti-cd  ?  v.l^cd  Charles. 

Undoubteaiy,  repUed  :hj'  C  rare. 

Mr.  Joites  heartny  p^i  e;i  c'ns  good  man,  becaufe 
lie  mud  far  more  leidib.y  kli  nis  lois,  iii:."e  he  v\'asnot 
rich,  and  could  not  eaiiiy  j'|iv-ar  rhe  lii-oney  neceffary  to 
rebuild  his  wall,  a  r  d  clear  rhe  rebbiih  out -of  his  gar- 
dei.  He  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  requeued  him  to 
walk  wirh  him  into  his  room,  where  they  could  con- 
vene more  freely  about  this  difailer. 

As  foon  as  they  had  feared  thcmfelsxs,  the  Curate 
faid,  my  dear  friend,  I  will  in  a  few  words  tell  yo'i 
why  I  am  now  come  ;  I  want  fome  money.  If  I  wilh 
not  to  fee  my  garden  a  wa(\c  the  whole  year — if  I  ex- 
pect to  fee  nouriihment  for  my  wife  and  clilldre'i  r-gain 
growing  init,  it  is  ablblutely  ncce.Tary  that  I  have  ic 
Cleared  away  this  week,  and  the  wall  rebuilt  ;  elie  the 
Isafon  will  be  pail,  and  I  lhall  not  be  eb!e  either  to 
fov^,%or  plant  in  time  ;  hov.'ever,  I  have  not  io  much 
m  )ne/  before-hand  ;  I  fliall  want  at  leail  tv/enty 
po.nids  :  will  you  lend  me  that  fum  ?  liow  can  you 
doubt  It,  dear  friend  ?  rephed  Mr.  Jones  ;  if  yon 
wane  a  Imndred,  yo.i  Ihall  have  it.  For  this  purpcfe 
has  God  efpecially  given  me  money,  that  I  ihoalci  be 
able  to  help  others.  But,  continued  Mr.  Jones,  how 
hup;.c  .s  it  that  you  are  fo  cheerfid  ;  after  having 
fe ■  fich  a  p_;reat  lols  ?  You  feem  as  contented  as 
if  every  thing  had  gone  well. 


M  O  II  A  L  I  X  Y.  227 

And  why  fliould  I  be  troubled  ?  anfwercd  ihe  Cn 
rate  Do  1  noc  aiiVrdly  know  by  whom  my  gurcen 
has  been  dei\ro  ed  ?  God  has  doi^e  ic ;  and  v,  hen  I 
know  that  He  is  o^oodaefs  icfeif,  can  I  beheve  chat  He 
mearittodo  me  any  harm?  Through  my  whole  hfe 
have  I  e-'perienced  that  He  cares  for  me,  that  Hen  rn% 
ail  evil  from  me,  and  fo  diredls  all  the  difappointments 
which  I  have  to  lirangle  with,  that  in  the  end  they 
will  be  ufeful  to  me.  ' 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  once  wiilied  to  ci't  a  branch 
pfF  a  wiUov/  vhich  Ytvng  over  a  Uream,  but  I  went  fo 
carelefsly  to  work  that  i  fell  into  it.  The  current  car^ 
ried  me  along — I  faw  the  bank  once  again,  and  thought 
it  was  the  hA\  time  I  Ihould  ever  fee  it.  Bat  God  was 
tnere,  and  reicred  me  by  means  of  a  beggar,  who  fat 
on  the  bank  mending  his  tattered  clothes.  He  quickly . 
jdrew  me  out  of  the  water — -out  of  the  jaws  of 
death. 

In  my  eighteenth  year  I  had  fach  a  fevere  tooth- 
^iche,  that  I  was  quite  weary  of  my  life,  and,  God 
forgive  me  for  it  I  I  almoin  miilrulfed  Him  ;  bnt 
through  this  violent  pain,  God  brought  me  lb  to  Him- 
feif  that  I  turned  to  Him,  and  learned  to  pray;  and 
my  prayer  fo  calm.ed  my  mind,  that  I  patiently  en* 
dured  the  m.oit  excruciating  anguifli,  till  a  friend 
pointed  oat  a  remedy.  And  how  many  times  have  I 
not  fince  thanked  God  that  he  let  hie  fiiiier,  elfe  I 
fiiovdd  never  have  prayed  fo  heartly,  nor  have  known 
the  advantage  of  prayer. 

When  I  was  at  the  univerfity,  I  had  a  burning 
fever,  which  tormented  me  during  fome  weeks,  anci 
Vv'ailed  all  my  rtrength  ;  but  when  I  again  recovered, 
I  remarked  that  this  illnefs  was  feut  me  as  a  blelhng 
from  a  gracious  God  ;  fori  had  always  before  been 
rather  fickly,  bnt  this  violent  diforder  purified  my 
blood,  and  I  found  myfelf  in  better  health  than  1  had 
ever  enjoyed. 

When  I  came  back  from  the  Univerfity,  I  found 
in  my  neighbourhood  an  enemy,  who  faid  the  moft 
fhaiiiefui  things  of  me,  behind  my  back,  and  even 


228 


ELEMENTS  OF 


tried  to  exafperafe  the  reclor  ap-ainH:  me,  afTiirinp- 
him  that  I  N\  as  a  very  ignorant,  dllbrderly  man.  By 
thefe  lies  he  drew  his  attention  on  me,  io  that  he  ob- 
fer^'ed  all  my  actions :  and  when  he  foimd  that  1 
was'a  good  and  orderly  man,  he  gave  me  tlie  cura- 
cy I  now  have.  Thus  God  dircded  this  in  fach  a 
manner,  that  my  enemy's  mahce  contributed  *to  my 
benefit. 

In  this  curacy  I  had,  indeed,  at  firil,  much  care - 
my  httle  income  was  not  fufficient  for  the  expences 
which  I  thought  necelTary  ;  but  I  always  hoped  that 
God  would  point  out  a  method  for  me  to  get  rid  of 
thefe  gnowing  cares.  My  hope  did  not  deceive  me. 
I  found  in  my  old  farmer  a  deliveier.  He  gave  me 
fuch  wife  advice,  that  through  it  I  was  drawn  out  of 
all  my  diflrefs. 

What  1  laft  year  endured  with  my  fick  family,  you 
know  already  ,  and  how  much  w^e  may  all  learn  frpm 
the  chamber  of  ficknefs,  you  alfo  knov/.  If  I  then 
have  fo  long  experienced  the  goodnefs  of  God,  and  fo 
clearly  perceive  that  He  has  ordered  ail  my  diiirelfes 
for  my  good,  why  fliould  I  not  believe  that  He  v/ill 
do  fo  Itiii  ^  I  have  no  care^  fo?^  God  cares  for  me. 


C  H  A  P  T  E  R    XL VI. 


NO  W  they  were  called  to  dinner,  and  the  Cu 
rate  was  not  a  little  furprized  at  not  linding 
Mrs.  Jones  there.  He  immediately  enquired  after  the 
ca ufe  of  her  abfence,  and  was  informed  that  Ihe  had 
caught  cold  the  day  before,  and  found  herfeif  fo  un- 
well in  the  morning,  that  Ihe  was  obliged  to  keep  her 
bed.  The  Curate  was  very  forry  ;  but,  d.  ring  the 
meal,  he  tried  to  calm  Mr.  Jones'  fears,  and  aifured 
hiiu,  chat  if  he  would  be  attentive^  he  would  certainly 
experience  that  this  ficknefs  alfo  would  lead  to  fome 
good,  fince  every  thing  God  fends  us  was  good^  how- 


MORALITY. 


229 


ever  bitter  it  might  appear  to  i:s.  Scarcely  was  the 
meal  finilhed,  when  he  began  to  prepare  for  his  de- 
piiTture,  and  wovld  not  let  himfelf  be  detained  by  Mr. 
Jones' very  preiring  entreaties.  Mr.  Jones  then  cour- 
ted out  fony  pounds  ;  bv.t  he  woi.ld  not  take  more 
than  twenty,  becaiife.  he  liiid,  more  v. as  not  neceiia- 
ry.  In  taking  leave,  he  wiihed  once  more  that  Mr. 
Jones'  ^'ear  wife's  indifpofion  might  only  ter.d  to 
make  him  better  acquainted  w  ith  the  r^oodnefs  of 
God.  ■ 

Scarcely  v/ashe  gone,  when  Mr.  Jones  flew  to  h's 
wife's  bed-fide.  He  found  her  v/orie  than  he  had 
fi.ppofed — her  pulfe  heat  very  irregiilany,  ai  d  ihe 
complained^of  a  pain  in  her  head.  ai:.'l  violent  thirlt. 
if  Mr.  Jones  had  notcherllLed  the  comfortable  rtfl^  di- 
cn,  that  all  is  gcod  v,  h:^h  gracioi:s  Cod  lends, 
this  fight  would  quite  ha\  e  ovcr.on.e  him  ;  b  t  h@ 
recollected  himfelf,  and  ihoiigbt,  Mcr'.ii"  i  i.od  I  n.y 
wife  is  in  Thy  hands — what  I'hou  hair  deierinu.ed 
will  certainly  happen — and  nothing  h..rtfal  wii^  Tnou 
do  tome  ! 

lie  then  fent  immediately  for  a  Phyrician.  who  gave 
him  very  little  comfort  ;  for  going  av.  ay.  licfa^.:,  cear 
Sir,  do  not  regard  your  wile's  iliiieil  a^  a  h^cluoi  — 
.  fl:.e  wiii  require  a  great  deal  of  our  care.  On  hear.r:g 
theie  words,  Mr.  jones  hnd  need  of  all  his  fordt  de, 
for  his  wife  v\  as  inevrrcilibly  dear  10  him,  and  every 
pang  which  uie  -  v.,..  rea  he  fehas  fcvereiy  as  if  he  had 
bee^i     ■:    '  r  ' 

i^lu-  -  ,  ■  a  dreacif.:!  one  ;  the  poor 

patient  ne\ er  ciolea  n^;:'  ^  -  — Ihe  groaned  and  was 
reitlels  ;  and  her  parses  ...  0  :w  iietimes  10  violent,  that 
ihe  grew  dehrior.s,  and  \voi  dd  get  oiu  of  bed  to  go  and 
fee  Mrs.  Sand  ford.  Mr.  '  rcb  nc\  crlefi  her  bed  hde, 
a?id  tried,  ill  chc  r;  live  accciicc,  to  compofe 

her.  In  the  morning  ilic  svas  a  liirie  heuter,  but  felt: 
hcrieif^^xtremiciy  weak.  The  two  following  nighis 
were  palled  in  the  fame  diilrerdng  manner,  and  the 
day  after  ihe  was  fo  exaufted  that  Ihe  could  fcarcely 
ip'-ak  a  word, 

U 


230 


ELEMENTS  OF 


The  fourth  day,  when  the  Phyfician  vifited  her, 
ihe  laid  to  him,  with  a  trembling  voice,  dear  Sir,  ■ 
have  a  reqiieii to  make  to  you;  teii  me  fmcerely,  t 
you  behove  rr.at  I  iliali  die  r — :  "..ir  not  death  !  .Th 
P      ■  vasliient,  and  iiiri^g^evi        his  fhoidders. — 
that  I  iiiall  die  ?  laid  Ihe.    Well — i  am  pre- 
fiii.id- — I'hy  \viiA,Ghmy  God,  be  done  !  She  then 
made  rjp.ns  to  the  i'hylician  to  leave  her,  and  let  her 
hiiiiband  .and  childreii  drav/  near. 

They  canie,  vvith  eyes  f\^immi^g  in  tears^  tryir.g 
to  rclh'ain  their  fobs,  and  hiding  their  faces  with  their  .' 
haadkerchiers.    Weep  not,  nw  ioves,  laid  ihe;  do  noE 
di:b  rb  niv  liic  ear nelqiraycr  1 

Thca  fi;e  colleded  all  her  ilrength — folded  her  hands 
ic^tiher- — raiiisd  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  prayed  aloud  ; 
(}r.icious  God !  I  thank  Thee,  for  ali  the  goodnei's 
Thou  haii  Ihewed  me  in  this  life — for  every  pleaiiire 
T  hon  h'?'";  •  rimte  J  me — for  all  the  difcipline  Thou  haft 
.  i  ;.\o\/  Thou  callcit  vr,e  to  Thylelf— ' 
]  ,   .  ■   \ .    i— confiding  in  I'hy  love,  1  come 

10  me,  Oh  I  niy  Father,  be  my  i' 
. ;    3  Father. 
:    ptfd,  bccauiie  her  hufDand  and  chil- 
.    .  ;o  ,d  that  her  weak  voice  could  not-  | 

1  rlc  a  frefi)  erxort — turned  herfelf  ra- 

I  r;  i  ,  fihd,  i  lhauk  yon,  I  thank  you^. 

th-:-.r  h:  ...  •  a'i  ihe  love  and eilccni  which  you- 

La v'e  ihu        ...     ..r  lincc  our  marriage.    God  reward^ 

ti.v  lovc  !  Go::         tl.ce  !  Farewell—  — 

neck,  and  alniorc  hided  her  v»'ith 
1.  i  Jie  children  cried,  Oh,  dear  mo- 

tCcF,  do  not  uiei  mo i Her  I  dear  mother  I  Ah,  mother^ 
do  no:  leave  \is  I 

File  nipped  oi.t  of  her  hnfoand's  arms,  and  faid,  I 
lhall  not  die,  dear  children  I  I  only  lay  ahde  this 
body,  as  doth  the  bntierhy  the  hull  in  which  is  was  en- 
clofed.  The  fpirit  is  vrvriortal,  and  goes  to  God.,  to- 
whom  we  mult  all  go,  and  He  will  reward  each  accordr 
ingly  as  they  have  aded  in  this  hfe;  the  wicked  He 


M  O  R  A  L  r  T  Y. 


will  pimifh — the  good  place  in  a  better  fituation,  and 
reward  them.  Be  good,  dear  children — obey  your 
tender  father— oifend  no  one — be  atiedionate  to  all 
men — thuxk  at  all  times  that  God  fees  you,  He  to  \vhom 
I,  your  mother,  am  now  going  ;  fo  lhall  we  foori  in  a 
better  world  all  meet  together,  and  Jrye  in  eteraalghap- 
pinefs,  God  be  merclfdi  to  me  ?  Pardon,  njy  faults  I  I 
 fall  into  Thy  arms  Oh  Thou  great  Fa- 
ther of  us  all  I  Here  the  loR  hsr  voice,  iuid  funk 

motionlefs  on  her  pillow. 

With  much  difficulty  Mr.  Jones, brought  her  fo  far 
to  herfeif,  that  (he  again  opened  her  eyes — but  flie 
could  fpeak  no  more.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  her 
hidband  and  chiidreii,  andflie  exerted  all  her  ilreno-th, 
flill  to  Hiew  them,  by  ligns,  how  much  llie  loved 
them.  Her  heart  began  to  beat  more  violently — Ihe 
had  arattlinp  in  her  throat — her  limbs  were  motionlefs* 
and  a  cold  iweat  was  fpreading  over  her  whole  body, 
in  this  condition  Ihe  laid  two  hours — then  her  fpirit 
departed. 

It  is  impoiiible  to  defcribe  the  lamentations  wdiich 
her  death  caufed.  Huiband  and  children,  Mr.  Noel 
and  the  clerks,  men  and  maids,  all  wept  bitcerly,  and 
exclaimed — Ah,  the  hei\  of  wives  !  the  good  mother  I 
our  kind  miilreis,  have  we  loft  yon  !  how  lad  will  the 
hcLife  be  when  you  are  no  more  there  1  Oh  milirefs  i 
mother  ! 

The  following  day  her  corpfe  was  laid  in  thecofna 
in  which  ihe  was  to  be  buried.  Then  tlit  lamentations 
grew  {till  louder.  As  foon  as  the  news  was  fpread  over 
the  city  that  Mrs.  Jones  was  departed  o  -  t  of  the 
\vorld,  a  number  cf  poor  collected  themfelves  from 
every  corner,  to  fee  her  corpfe.  And  when  they  fciw 
her,  lamented  over  her — My  benefadref^: — My  more 
than  niother  I — My  fupport  when  I  had  no  one  to  help 
me! — Beii  of  women  I  Belt  of  women  !  echoed  through 
the  whole  houfe.  A  v/oman  ruined  through  the 
crowd,  and  feized  her  cold  hand.  God,  God  blefs 
you  I  dear  woman,  for  ail  the  good  you  have  done  to 
liie.    You  brought  me  up,  a  poor  orphan — I  could-ixot 

U  2  ^ 


232  ELEMENTS    OF  &c. 

reward  thee  !    but  God,  with  whom  thou  now  arr. 
lie  will  reward  thee  ;  and  when  I  come  to  the  jvidg 
nient  ieac  of  God,  I  will  tell  how  thou  educatedit"  , 
helplefs  child  ; — He  alone  can  blefs  thee  as  thon  dcferv- 
cit  to  be  bleiied. 

Afterwards  the  body  v/as  carried  to  the  grave  ;  a 
great  crowd  of  people  followed   the  funeral,'  and 
they  followed,  refoi  nded  her  praife. 

'When  Mr.  Jones  reti^rned  from  the  funeral,  he  fr.ri... 
ahnolt  hfelefs  on  a  fofa,  and  his  children  ran  moiirnfr.K 
ly  tohim.  Dear  children,  faid  he  to  them,  the  g^reat- 
eft  comfort  I  had  in  this  world  God  haS  taken  from  me. 
Yoor  dear  mother  he  has  called  to  Himielf,  to  reward 
her  for  ail  the  love  ihe  has  ihcwn  iis,  and  fuch  a  nimi-^ 
her  cf}:oor  people.  Kow  there  is  noihing  fo  de^ir  iiil 
the  world  to  me  as  you.  If  you  lliouid  become  wicked, = 
I  lhall  no:  long  remain  in  this  world  ;  grief  would  foon;! 
bring  me  alio  to  the  grave.  But  if  you  continue  to  bej 
good,  obediefit,  iiKralirious  children,  and  attend  to 
truth,  1  1  ail  hill  find  Ibme  coujfort  even  after  the  lols 
of  yoiir  moLher. 

The  children  kilTed  his  har,ds,  bathed  them  with 
their  rears,  ai  d  i  roiuifed  him,  that  they  woL.ld  impli- 
citly obey  his  wul. 

They  kep.  uhtir  word.  They  grew  up,  and  Mary 
became  as  benevolent,  iiuccre  a;.d  coijv.  laifant,  as  her 
motlier  had  been;  and  lijOi'e  who  ew  her  mother 
uied  to  Uiy,  this  is  another  Mrs.  jehc^.  Aiici  Charles 
became  a  worthy  man,  who  by  liis  i.C:\v\iy  ar,d  be- 
nevolence gaintci  the  alieclion  and  rciicc;:  of  all  his 
friends  and  acci  aintance. 

For  a  long  rin^ie  ?/Ir.  Jones  faw  in  the  condi'vil  -  of 
his  children  the  fruits  of  the  good  leTibns  v,  hich  he  and 
his  wife  had  given  them:  and  tr.o^igh  in  the  follow- 
ing years  he  coi!::.  incrca^'rd  i:is  Ibrt'uie.  yet 
he  was  ibll  more  e...,  e.  j  con\iucC(l,  thai  among  -U 
his  vrealure  he  iowr.d  nc' king  that  axibrdecl  him  fb  mixh 
piCulVre  as  the  graiit:  ce  of  Lis  children.  A/'d  their 
gnnd  behaviour  h.  his  old  ace  rewardffd  hivz  fir  tic 
1)aiFS  u'/jich  their  cdiicaii'jn  had  czit  him. 

FINIS' 


4 


